


Take Care of You

by spn1dneedit



Series: First Times [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Sex, M/M, Polyamory, Public Sex, Riding, Roger is a little shit, Roger-centric, Top!Brian, Top!Freddie, again lots of kissing, an attempt at face fucking, bottom!John, poly!Queen, slight angst, switch!roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spn1dneedit/pseuds/spn1dneedit
Summary: None of them know how this is supposed to work. Kissing between four people is one thing, but sex is something else entirely. Basically, Roger fucks all three of his boyfriends, but learns along the way that sex complicates things equally, if not more than it make things better.





	1. Freddie

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, each chapter is sex with a different man, but do not be fooled, this is a poly fic and I try to get ot4 moments at the beginning and end of each chapter

“Tonight’s the night.” Freddie whispered into Roger’s hair on the way to the venue. He squeezed Roger’s fingers where they were tangled within his own for emphasis. Roger felt the tips of his ears warm, so he turned his head away from Freddie to his right where Brian was seated. Brian smirked when their eyes met, as if he knew what Freddie had just said to the blonde. He probably did, those bastards were always talking amongst each other and leaving him out.

Freddie didn’t seem to be put off by the fact that Roger had turned away from him because he just chuckled a bit and nuzzled his face further into his neck, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, love.”

Roger kept his face turned away from Freddie, but his broke into a grin, and felt his heart give a nervous flutter at the thought of what was going on that night. Later, after their show and after they’d said goodbye to the other two men for the night, Freddie would lead Roger back to their hotel room and fuck him for the first time.

It would by no means be the first time Freddie or Roger had fucked someone, but it would be Roger’s first time with a man, and Freddie’s first time with Roger. The four of them had decided it would be that way, back a few weeks prior, the very first night they’d spent together after Roger kissed them all for a second time.

_Roger had been the first one to bring up sex, sandwiched between the three undressed bodies of his bandmates, playing with Deaky’s hair as they talked through what everything had all meant, and what it would continue to mean to all of them._

_“How does sex work then, in all of this? Do we all fuck each other all at once? Do I get passed around like the band bicycle, each of you gets to take a ride?” His cock had gotten rather hard thinking about it, taking all three of his boys separately and together. Freddie was pressed against his back, and Roger was positive he felt an interested twitch against his bum, which made him grin widely, but the thought of being with three men all at once when he hadn’t even been with one yet was daunting._

_Brian seemed to think about it, laid flat on his back with one hand draped over his stomach, the other one underneath Deaky’s neck, his pose not unlike the one that got Roger to kiss him in the first place, and just when he opened his mouth to respond, Freddie cut in._

_“As the only person here who’s ever fucked one man, let alone multiple at once, I believe it’s best if Roger spends some… One on one time with each of us before we all descend upon him like hungry dogs that only think with their cocks.” Freddie punctuated his statement with a flurry of small nips and kisses at Roger’s shoulder, causing the younger man to squirm and giggle a bit. He’d said it playfully, but the idea made sense to the other three, it seemed like the best way to work up to having them all together at once._

_“And I suppose you’ll be Roger’s first, then?” Brian shifted to face the other men instead of the ceiling and draped his arm across John’s bare chest._

_“Of course I will, Brian. I am, like I said, the only one with experience in the fucking men...” A sly smile spread across Freddie’s face, “Unless, of course, you’ve been holding out on us, curly.”_

_Just like that, all four men descended into laughter, and then comfortable silence, and then sleep. It was settled. Roger was going to have all of his boys, and then they would all have him._

The show went amazing, as all of them had since the four bandmates finally shacked up together. Awkwardness, longing eyes, and unresolved sexual tension were a thing of the past, making way for much more fun things: playful winks, almost kisses, and exuberant sexual energy. By then end of each show, Roger was practically vibrating with excitement, but that night especially. Thoughts of what was coming later kept his dick half hard the whole night.

At the end of their last song, Roger stood from his drum tool, raised his arms, sticks in hand, in a victorious position before swinging around to bow with the other three. Brian, Deaky, and Freddie stood in a line, obviously waiting for him for the final bow and thank you. He didn’t think he could stand to be near Freddie without getting noticeably hard in his pants thinking about what was going on later that night, so Roger slid easily between Deaky and Brian, taking each of their hands possessively the moment they were in reach.

“You were amazing tonight.” Deaky leaned over to Roger, lips almost touching his ear.

“I think you’re supposed to say that to them.” Roger raised the hand that was linked with the bassist’s toward the crowd, but Deaky just shook his head and leaned back in.

“They don’t deserve it as much as you do.” This time, he actually placed a small kiss to Roger’s ear, and nuzzled a bit into Roger’s sweaty hairline, enjoying the way the blonde’s ears burned in happy embarrassment. John pulled back quickly when he remembered they were still in public, thousands of eyes still on them, in fact, and turned his head away from Roger and back to the crowd. Roger clenched John's hand in his to keep him from pulling away there too.

“Thank you, lovies, for coming out tonight, it’s always a pleasure to play for people as beautiful as you!” Freddie played the crowd as much as he always did, and when it came time for the four of them to take their final bow for the night, Roger squeezed both Brian and Deaky’s hands in his own and smiled brighter into the crowd than he had ever before.

John let go of Roger's hand as soon as they came up from the bow, but Brian kept his fingers linked with Roger’s as they walked back to the dressing room, and then immediately wrapped his arms around the shorter man and pulled him in for a kiss once the door had shut behind the four of them.

After-show adrenaline always ran high, and the boys rarely made it two seconds out of sight before they were all tearing off each other’s clothes and doing everything up to, but not including full-on sex right there in the dressing space, still sweaty with their ears still buzzing from the volume of the show.

Not that night though. That night, Brian kissed Roger languidly and sensually; he held Roger tightly against himself, as if trying to create an imprint of his body so that Roger wouldn’t forget what Brian felt like against him after Freddie fucked him that night. As if Roger could ever forget a single part of Brian, or Deaky. They were so innately a part of Roger now, that he pressed himself onto Brian with the same force, willing Brian to feel how Roger felt about him.

Freddie and John were wrapped up in each other as well, but John kissed Freddie not with the same slow burn impression of which Brian kissed Roger, but rather with intensity and filth unexpected of the bassist because of his quiet demeanor. Deaky kissed Freddie the way he hoped Freddie would fuck Roger later that night: hard and deep and with so much passion that the other man just about forgot his own name.

“We’ll meet you back in the hotel room in a few hours.” John, having finally pulled away from Freddie, peeled off his sweat damp shirt and pulled on a new one. Brian nodded in agreement as he too moved to change out of the clothes. Their plan was to go out, have a few drinks, party for a bit, and then come back to Freddie and Roger, where they’d all climb into bed together as they had been for weeks, and fall asleep curled around each other.  

Roger moved to also get undressed, but Freddie walked over and grabbed him by the wrist with a cheeky grin, “Why get into new clothes when you’re just going to take them off right away?”

Roger chuckled and lightly yanked his wrist from Freddie’s grasp, “I smell.”

“I _love_ the way you smell, all sweaty and sexy.” Roger barked out another laugh but made no other moves to take off his shirt, just folded his arms across his chest and leaned into Freddie’s side.

“Fine, but I’m taking a shower the minute we get to the room.”

Freddie leaned in close to Roger’s ear, “Darling, I’m pretty sure we had other plans for what is going to happen once we get to the room.”

“Trust me, those plans are still on, but I’d rather not fuck you for the first time already sticky and smelling dirty.”

Once Brian and Deaky changed, the four of them made their way to the back of the venue, two vans waited for them, one to take Roger and Freddie to the hotel, the other to bring Brian and John to whatever bar they were going to.

“Take good care of him” Brian breathed onto Freddie’s lips before he pulled him into a short goodbye kiss.

“I’ll be unbelievably kind and gentle with our Rog tonight.” Although there was a wide grin on his face, Brian could hear the sincerity in the singer’s voice. Beneath the confident and loudly sexual exterior, Brian knew that Freddie was nervous about tonight, and the pressure it meant to be Roger’s first time with a man.

“I said take care of him, Fred, with Rog you may have to be a little more than all kind and gentle.” The taller man hoped to ease the underlying worry with a soft joke and felt good about the genuine laugh he received.

Brian kissed Freddie once more and then took a step back, “See you in a few. Love you both!”

Roger, who’d just broken apart from John, called out a quick “love you!” to Brian as he opened the door and slid into his seat in the van.

Freddie turned on his heel to walk back to join him, but was stopped by John, “I’m sure this’ll be great for him, he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. Nothing could ruin this for him besides you getting too much in your head.”

“What?”

John just shrugged and offered Freddie a quick peck, “You heard me. Stop worrying.” With that, he walked over to join Brian in the other van.

Freddie approached the car that already held Roger and the blonde scooted back on the seat to make room for Freddie. Before the van had pulled away from the curb Roger had turned on him, fully seating himself on Freddie’s lap and kissing him furiously.

The ride to the hotel was beautiful. Roger kissed the daylight out of Freddie and still refused to let him rest for night. If there wasn’t a promise of something better in the hotel room, Freddie would have bene content to stay like that forever: Roger perched on his lap and cocks rubbing deliciously together as they kissed like teenagers in the back of the van.

The elevator ride up to their room lasted an eternity, the walk from the elevator to their room went on for miles, it took Roger an hour to unlock the door with the key the hotel manager handed to them on their way in, but time had never seemed slower than when they both stepped foot inside the room, and neither of the two men knew what to do.

They both knew what they’d do with anyone else. Roger would throw whatever drunk groupie he’d picked up onto the bed, fuck her nice and fast and dirty, smoke a cigarette, and then show her the door. Freddie was different.

Freddie would kiss his partner for a bit, then let himself be pushed against the door while his partner dropped to their knees, fuck them once he got bored of their mouths, and then let them stay the night in his room, while he’d wander off to see if any of his bandmates were open to letting him sleep on the pull out couch in their room. Roger was different.

“I’ve got to shower.” Roger said finally, looking up at Freddie with unsure eyes. He’d never been this out of his element on the topic of sex.

Freddie nodded, “I should as well.”

Nervous as he may have been, Roger was still a snarky little shit, “Maybe you should join me then.”

“You and I both know, love, that if I join you in that shower, our plans will be over before they’ve even begun.”

“S’pose you’re right.” A beat of silence. “I’ll just…” Roger pointed toward the bathroom and then started to walk toward it, smirking to himself because he knew that Freddie was watching his every move.

Roger left the bathroom door open when he walked in, dirty tease he was. Freddie moved to lean against the door frame, watching Roger turn on the shower and then strip.

Roger pretended he didn’t see Freddie standing there, watching him. He just turned around and went through the motions, if a little slower and more purposeful than he would have alone. He shucked his shirt quickly, just a plain white tee, and started working on his pants, and once he was out of those, Roger turned back toward Freddie in just his briefs. Roger could feel his cheeks get rosy as he locked eyes with Freddie. They’d all seen each other naked before, multiple times, but it felt different then. It was different then.

Never breaking the stare, Roger hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and pushed them down, letting them slide down his legs before kicking them off. Roger had done it before, in front of countless girls, but standing there, naked in front of Freddie felt entirely different. It was entirely different.

“Like what you see?” Uncomfortable with the vulnerability, Roger tried to smirk along with the line, but something about the intensity of Freddie’s stare made it fall flat. Roger felt a flush down his entire body then, the fire on his cheeks, down his neck, flames licking his chest and burning his core all the way through. His dick, which hadn’t been fully soft since before their show started, was hot and pink like the rest of him, and Roger wanted nothing more than, instead of Freddie’s eyes, for his hand or mouth to be on it.

“Darling, don’t take this any way but the way I mean it, but get in the fucking shower before I throw you in it…”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Roger winked at Freddie but followed his direction, nonetheless.

“And make it a cold one, you minx!”

Roger laughed his way into the shower. Once he was in and the curtain was pulled, Freddie set to work on getting everything ready and perfect for Roger. He lit a candle, untucked the notoriously tight hotel sheets for easy access, and dug through their bags for the condoms and lube. Freddie was so engrossed in making things perfect he didn’t hear the shower turn off. He didn’t hear the door open. He didn’t hear Roger step out and into the main part of the room. He only realized Roger was done when the blonde was standing right in front of his, wrapped in the hotel robe.

_Roger looks lovely._

“You look lovely.” The two of them stood there for a second, breathing each other in at the foot of the bed.

_No way am I letting Fred take a shower before this happens_

“Love, if it’s all right with you, I think I’m going to pass on the shower for now.” Roger smelled distinctly like hotel soap, and Freddie smelled like dried sweat, but neither of them noticed at all once their lips met again.

Previously, Roger had seen kissing as just that. Two mouths meeting, lips and tongue and teeth if you aren’t careful, but it felt different this time. It was different this time. Kissing Freddie was no longer just kissing Freddie, it was now a part of sex. Freddie’s tongue softly delved into Roger’s mouth. Roger reached out one hand, linked it with Freddie’s, then slid the other around the singer’s waist, reminiscent of their first kiss. Freddie kissed Roger as if he wasn’t just kissing him, he was making love to Roger’s mouth.

“I need you.” Roger detached his mouth from Freddie’s and whined into his neck. He rocked his dick into his boyfriend’s pelvis, too hard to be comfortable as his dick ground into the material of the robe and against the tight polyester of Freddie’s trousers, but he didn’t care. He needed this. Roger needed something. Someone. Freddie.

“Freddie…” the brunet continued to kiss and bite up and down Roger’s neck, he couldn’t get enough of him, “Fred! Please…” The ‘please’ got Freddie to look up at his boyfriend. Blue eyes glazed over and pupils dilated, pink lips already kiss swollen and opened dumbly, skin flushed and burning to the touch. Roger was ready and he wasn’t in the mood to wait. He needed Freddie.

“Get on the bed, lie on your back.” Freddie took a small step back from the blond and let go of the hand that’d previously been linked with Roger’s. Roger didn’t move. Freddie pulled his shirt off and over his head. Roger stayed still. Freddie popped the fly open on his pants. Roger’s breath came quicker in his chest. Freddie dropped his pants, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Roger dropped to his knees.

“Rog… You don’t have to. Tonight’s about you. I’m supposed to be the one making _you_ feel good.”

Roger shook his head and smiled brightly up his boyfriend, “I want to do this. I know the first time I tried on you it wasn’t great, but Deaky and Brian say I’ve gotten pretty good, remember?”

“Love, I haven’t taken a shower and I probably smell. Get up on the bed, I’ll do it for you.”

“I love the way you smell,” As if to prove a point, Roger leaned into Freddie and pressed his nose into the crook of his hip, breathing him in. “Besides, I just told you, Fred, I want this. I want you.”

Roger didn’t wait for any response from Freddie, just reached a hand up and grasped the base of Freddie’s cock. Freddie had no response anyway.

Still relatively new at the whole dick sucking business, Roger focused mainly on taking what he could into his mouth, and let his hand cover the rest, jerking Freddie off.

Freddie’s eyes rolled back into his head and he tried his hardest not to buck into Roger’s mouth. It wasn’t the best blowjob he’d ever received, in terms of skill, but what he lacked there, Roger made up for many times over in enthusiasm.

“Look at me.” Roger pulled off Freddie’s dick with a soft ‘pop’ and sat back on his heels. He waited for Freddie to make eye contact. Once he did, Roger grabbed one of Freddie’s hands, which had been clenched at his sides, and placed it on the back of his head.

“I can’t take it all the way, so you have to be gentle, but I want you to use me.” Freddie was silent. “Like, I want you to set the pace.” Freddie blinked down at his boyfriend in awe. “Fred. Come on, I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“I know what you want.” He didn’t mean for it to, but his voice came out in a whisper.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll do it?” There was clear excitement in Roger’s voice, still Freddie couldn’t believe what Roger was asking.

“Do what?”

“Are you trying to be the most useless and difficult person on the fucking planet? I want you to hold me by the hair and fuck my face. It’s not that fucking difficult to understand.” Roger huffed, clearly annoyed and too horny to deal with teasing or stupidity or trepidation, or whatever was stopping Freddie from giving him what he wanted.  

“You want me to fuck your face?”

_Finally, he fucking gets it._

“Finally, you fucking got it.” Roger straightened out his back and looked up to meet Freddie’s eyes, “Just like I said though, I won’t be able to take all of it.” He moved his hands from his sides and placed them on Freddie’s ass, willing Freddie to curl his fingers into the blonde locks and guide his fat cock to Roger’s open mouth.

Freddie took a moment to breathe and thank whatever god was up there for plopping Roger right into his lap, or in between his legs, more accurately. Once he’d had a moment to collect himself from the edge he’d been teetering off of, Freddie let his thumb brush across Roger’s parted lips, let it trail down to stroke his chin before he tilted the drummer’s head up a bit, and slid his hand back to push Roger lightly back onto his cock.

They started slow, Freddie not daring to push Roger too hard, and Roger waiting for Freddie to realize he wouldn’t break and to just let go and fuck his face.

Freddie worked Roger slowly down until the blonde was halfway down his shaft, mouth stretched wide and a bit of spit leaking down his face. When Freddie pushed for more, just a bit more of Roger’s hot, wet mouth against his straining prick, Roger moaned. It vibrated against Freddie’s cock and he couldn’t help but buck into Roger, hips snapping and burying his cock further into Roger’s mouth than Roger could take, and a lot further than Freddie would ever consciously go.

Roger sputtered and backed up onto his heels, his face covered in his own spit, Freddie’s precum, and a look of what could only be described as a horrid mix of love, surprise, and disgust. Freddie felt absolutely horrible about it.

“I told you to be gentle… Shows what a good listener you are.” Roger removed one hand from where it’d been cupping Freddie’s ass to wipe his face dry, massaging his jaw a bit along the way and wincing at the soreness.

“Rog, I’m so fucking sorry, but when you moaned, it was like… And I wasn’t ready for it… I was just so surprised..” Freddie trailed off, unable to come up with words to describe exactly how incredible it’d felt. “I can’t even tell you how good I felt. I’m terribly sorry though for what came after.”

“So I wasn’t horrible then?”

“Quite the opposite, really love.” Roger positively beamed at the praise, and Freddie tucked ‘praise kink’ back into the file of things he kept in his mind that he’d one day like to try with Rog and the others, once they were all ready.

“So we can try it again? We barely even got started.” The hopeful smile on Roger’s face melted Freddie’s heart into a puddle. But still, there were other things Freddie wanted to get done.

“Maybe later, I’d like to move from that for tonight.” Freddie grabbed both of Roger’s arms and pulled him up until the shorter man was standing in front of him. “I really need to fuck you, or I’ll come before I’m in you and ruin both of our nights.”

Roger smirked and squeezed Freddie’s hands in his own, “We definitely can’t have that, can we?”

“Absolutely not. So take off that stupid robe and lie down on the bed or I’ll pick you up and throw you down myself, you cheeky little thing.”

Roger threw his head back and laughed, exposing his neck and the already blooming love bites Freddie had left earlier. He continued to grin as he dropped the robe and climbed onto the bed. Roger made sure that Freddie was watching him as he crawled slowly up the length of the mattress, wiggling his ass and turning around to bat his eyelashes playfully at Freddie intermittently.

Finally, he turned around and settled back against the pillows. Roger looked like an angel; his blonde hair spread around his head like a soft halo, and his legs open like the gates of heaven, inviting him in.

“Fred, will you stop staring and just fuck me already?”  

Freddie’s mouth went dry. This was it. Roger would only have one first time with a man, and it was with him. He’d spent time making sure everything would be perfect, and he was going to continue to do everything in his power to make it so. With one last shaky breath, Freddie moved to join Roger on the bed. Then, he moved so that he was kneeling between Roger’s legs, all the while Roger’s blue gaze followed him closely under heavy lids.

“Are you ready?” Freddie asked, making sure to give Roger one last out, one last chance to postpone or stop everything all together.

Freddie’s concern was met with an eyeroll and an exaggerated huff, but also a soft smile, “It’s just sex, you idiot, I’ve had loads of sex before.”

“You’ve never had sex with me before.” Freddie reminded his boyfriend before reaching over to the nightstand next to the bed and grabbing the lube and condom, the ‘or any other man’, went unsaid but definitely heard by both men.  

Cheeky as ever, Roger chuckled a bit, “And I suppose it’s so much different. So much better.”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that, darling.” Freddie, now with materials in hand, laid down on his stomach between Roger’s legs. He pressed a quick kiss in the crook of each of Roger’s thighs, and he smiled at the soft tremor that ran through the blond, surely from the effort to not snap his thighs quickly around Freddie’s head.

“This’ll be so good for you, love, I promise.” Not listening for any response, or receiving any if he had been, Freddie ducked down and took Roger’s cock in his mouth. He’d been wanting to do it for days, weeks, months, since their first kiss, since even before then.

Roger mewled when Freddie took him into his mouth, arching his back and preening in a way he never had before. Freddie’s mouth had barely been on him a minute before Roger was grasping at the hotel sheets and biting his lips bloody to keep from doing to Freddie exactly what Freddie’d done to him.

Far more experienced than Roger, and most likely anyone that Roger had ever been with before, Freddie knew all the tricks to get the drummer riled up and ready to burst within a minute. He took Roger all the way into his mouth, bobbing and suckling until he’d gotten all the way down. When his nose finally brushed against the light brown curls, Freddie took a deep breath in, filling himself with as much Roger as he could get. Roger felt perfect in Freddie’s mouth, and in his lungs, in his lap, and in his heart. Freddie would never get enough of him.

Freddie would never get enough of the way Roger’s thighs quaked when Freddie licked up the vein on the underside of his cock. Freddie would never get enough of the sound of Roger’s mewls as he sucked on the head of his dick while rolling Roger’s balls gently in his hand. Freddie would never get his fill of the broken scream Roger let out as Freddie spread his legs a bit further and pressed a lubed finger against his tight hole.

After that, Roger couldn’t stop himself from bucking up, and he did so freely and without care as Freddie kept sucking his cock while teasing his hole with the one finger. He could barely contain himself enough to not kick Freddie clean off the bed as the finger finally breached his hole and started pumping in and out, stretching him to take another, and then another, and then Freddie’s cock.

Freddie popped off Roger’s cock, despite a loud and insistent ‘no!’ from the other man, “Relax, Rog. You’re tight enough already, but if you don’t relax, I don’t think I’ll be able to fit more than this one finger in you.”

“You try to fucking relax when you’ve got a mouth on your dick and a finger in your ass!” Roger threw an arm over his face, trying to hide the fire on his cheeks.

“Just try. You’ve got to let me in, love.” Freddie placed another kiss to the inside of Roger’s thigh before getting right back to work. He squeezed more lube on the finger that’d already been inside of his love, and a light smear around the actual hole.

This time, Freddie went in with his finger first. He worked it in without having to split his attention between that and Roger’s dick, although it did look delightful: delicious, pink and weeping.

“You’re doing so well for me. Opening up so well on my finger.” The praise worked to relax Roger further, and Freddie slathered a second finger in lube. “I’m going to add another one, are you ready for that?”

Roger nodded, still with his arm over his face, though now Freddie suspected it had more to do with biting back moans than it did embarrassment, seeing as how tightly he’d pressed it into his face when the second finger pushed past his entrance.

The second one was much tighter, but Roger relaxed much quicker, Freddie found. He pushed the fingers in, Roger whined. He pulled them out a bit, Roger’s hips slanted back down to get them back. He scissored them back and forth, Roger squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself off the edge. He pushed the fingers all the way in and hooked them a bit, searching for the spot in him that would make Roger scream.

“Fred!”

Roger did not disappoint.

“Oh Fred, please! Please. C’mon please. Please. Please. Please, Fred!” Roger’s cock dribbled precum obscenely, and Freddie couldn’t help but to shift his focus for a moment and get his mouth on it again, if only for a moment. Freddie pumped his fingers in and out in a languid motion of Roger’s hole as he began sucking his cock again.

After a moment, it all became too much for Roger and he moved his free hand to push Freddie gently off his dick. Freddie blinked up at him, confused.

“I’m not,” Roger took a deep breath in through his nose, as if he hadn’t breathed since Freddie put his mouth on him for a second time, and started again, “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that. Just finish getting me ready and then fuck me.”

Freddie grinned up at Roger from between his legs, “That good, am I?”

Truthfully, he was that good, and Roger would tell him that later, but right then, right in the moment, what Roger told Freddie was what he’d been dying to say all night long.

“Just shut up and fuck me!”

“One more finger. Let me get just one more finger in to stretch you out, and then yes, love, I’ll finally make love to you.”

“One more finger and then you’ll fuck my brains out?” Roger said back to him, quirking an eyebrow at the singer.

“Yes, darling just one more finger, which would already be in you if you weren’t so fucking talkative.”

“Please, if you just moved a little faster and stopped treating me like I’m gonna break we probably would’ve already been to the actual fuckin-“ Roger was cut off by Freddie adding a third lubed up finger to the two that were already there.

In no time, Roger was grinding down on the fingers inside him, panting at Freddie to move and go “faster” and “harder”, and “right there”, and “no, not there! A bit farther back”, and “oh yes right there”, and “oh God, Freddie please just fuck me!”

If Freddie was a bit more of a tease, and a little less close to coming as he was, he would have drawn it out more. He would have made Roger wait until the drummer had wrung his voice out and was still screaming for more. He would have made Roger wait until he was just one light touch on his cock away from orgasm. He would have made Roger wait until he’d begged good and hard for Freddie’s dick. However, Freddie wasn’t that big of a tease (that night, anyway), and he _was_ that close to coming, so he instead pulled his fingers out of Roger, and finally reached for the condom.

It was time.

_Roger looks lovely._

“You look lovely.” Freddie leaned himself over Roger, hiking one of Roger’s legs up around his waist, and letting the other one stay planted at his side.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Fred, you know I do, but if your cock isn’t in my in my ass in five seconds or less, I’ll call Brian and Deaky back and have them take care of me.”

“Don’t be a bitch, love, it doesn’t suit you.” Freddie rolled the condom on and then looked back up to grin at Roger. Roger grinned back up at him, complete trust and love in his eyes.

Freddie lined up his cock with Roger’s entrance and they both stopped breathing for a moment. Roger’s hand flitted up his body to sling itself around Freddie’s neck, pulling him onto himself, into himself. He tried to relax, like Freddie’d told him earlier, tried to make himself breathe in or out or even at all, but all attempts stuck in his throat, blocked by anticipation.

The initial press into Roger had Freddie gasping. He’d fucked many men before, had been fucked by many men before, but it felt different with Roger. It was different with Roger. He only had the head in, but he felt like he was sure to burst at any second, one wrong move from him or Roger and they’d be done before they’d ever really started.

 _God_ , Freddie couldn’t even look at Roger until he was fully seated inside him. All the while, as Freddie kept the same slow, careful pace pushing in, he’d had his eyes squeezed shut. He knew that one look at Roger’s face, or his body, or his cock would push him over the edge, but Roger felt so good around him that Freddie didn’t know if even closing his eyes could save him.

Roger certainly didn’t make it any easier on him. As Freddie pushed in, the breath he’d been holding was let out in a long moan followed by a series of small, high gasps. He pulled Freddie down so that he could press his face into his neck, whining in to the black hair and slick neck how much he loved it, how good Freddie felt inside of him, how Freddie was his everything.

Roger’s own cock strained between them, and Roger wrapped his free hand around it, tugging himself off to just the feeling of Freddie inside him, still, but filling him in a way he’d never felt before. He knew he wasn’t going to last long once Freddie started moving.

“Please, Freddie, babe, move, please. I can take it. I’m ready.” Roger willed Freddie, unknown to him that Freddie was staying still more for his own benefit than for the blond’s. But Freddie, never one to leave a partner unsatisfied, pushed away his own reservations and fears of coming too early, and pulled back a bit only to snap his hips back into Roger’s tightness.

From then, it was instinct. Freddie fucked into Roger methodically, listening to Roger’s moans and keens and high squeaks to tailor his thrusts and angles. He’d go slow for a bit, wait for Roger to practically cry at the pace, and then speed up again. He’d thrust hard to feel Roger yank at his hair. He’d go shallow for a bit, just to let Roger experience being full. Then, he’d pulled out almost fully, leaving just the head in Roger and then pressed his hips fast back in, surely hitting Roger’s prostate somewhere in there because Roger sank his teeth a bit roughly into Freddie’s neck and moaned.

Roger let the hand on his cock speed up when he felt Freddie’s hips begin to falter after a while: He recognized the sign that the singer was close from his own habits. Roger was close too, reeling from the sheer force of pleasure he’d never felt before. Sure he’d loved fucking women in the past, but if this is what it was like with Freddie, and would be like with Brian and John, he’d happily give up women forever.

It all came on so fast, though. One minute Roger knew he was close, but felt he could hang on for just a bit longer, and the next Freddie was looking into his eyes finally and pressing his hips up and his cock brushed right against _that spot_ inside of Roger, and the blond was seeing white. He came all over his own hand and chest, and all over Freddie’s too.

Freddie had barely detached himself from Roger’s neck to look him in the eyes for ten seconds before he saw a very distinct look cross Roger’s face and felt him clenching down on his cock. Freddie kept thrusting through Roger’s orgasm, getting off on his face and his moans and the feeling of his hot cum spurting against Freddie’s body.

He didn’t last much longer after that, giving one final thrust as Roger panted and tried to collect himself before he was coming into the condom. Roger was still clenching around him periodically, and it made it that much harder to pull out, even after Freddie’d come and was rapidly softening inside his boyfriend. Freddie wanted to stay inside Roger forever.

“I love you.” Roger said as Freddie wiped down his chest with the damp cloth he’d grabbed when he threw the condom in the trash. He laid on his back, both arms crossed behind his head, a dopey smile on his well-fucked out face.

_Roger looks so beautiful like this_

“You look so beautiful like this.” Freddie threw the cloth into the corner of the room and laid down next to Roger on the bed, “I love you too.”

Roger turned over and pressed his backside into Freddie so that the older man was spooning him, then turned his head to look back at him, “I can’t wait to tell Brian and Deaks about it when they come back.”

“Me too.” Freddie pressed a kiss to Roger’s forehead and smiled softly, he too was waiting excitedly for the other two to come back. Laying in bed without the other two felt strange, unbalanced almost. Freddie reached behind himself and turned off the bedside lamp, blanketing the room in darkness.

The two drifted off the sleep instead of waiting for the other two to make it back, both of them too exhausted from the night’s activities to resist sleep while they laid in bed.

Freddie awoke to the sound of the door opening and shutting. The two men who’d just stumbled in turned on the bathroom light as to not wake up the sleeping couple on the bed with the bright room light. The singer opened his eyes and watched silently as Brian and John undressed as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the two men on the bed that they thought were sleeping.

“They look good together like that.” John whispered to Brian and Freddie smiled. In the dim light of the room, neither of them could see that Freddie was awake and grinning at them, just the soft outline of their two bodies intertwined.

“Why thank you, Deaky. You and Bri don’t look too bad yourself.” Two heads snapped in his direction and Freddie couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We thought you two were sleeping.” Brian said, shedding the last of his clothes down to his briefs and then sitting on the side of the bed Freddie and Roger had left open for the other two, waiting for John to take his place in the middle next to Roger. John finished getting undressed, turned the bathroom light off, and slid into the bed next to Brian. The two of them laid down, spooning while facing Freddie and Roger. With all of them in bed, laying together peacefully, they all felt whole. That was how they belonged.

Later, when Brian and Freddie had finally drifted off to sleep, John reached a hand and carded through Roger’s hair, “I know you’re awake.”

Roger let out a surprised breath and then captured John’s hand in his own, bringing it down to kiss each of the bassist’s fingertips lightly, “How did you know?”

“You have a very specific breathing pattern when you sleep… Plus I saw you smile a bit when I tripped over Brian’s trousers getting into bed.” John pulled his hand away from Roger’s mouth and moved to link their fingers together, “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“It was perfect, Deaks,” Roger let out a content sigh and squeezed John’s fingers a bit harder in his grasp, “I can’t wait to do it with you and Brian, and then all of you together. I can’t even explain how amazing it was.”

“I can only imagine.” Even in the dark, Roger knew that John was smiling at him. He smiled back.

_I love them so much_

“I love you guys so much.”

At first he was met with silence, but then after a moment, all three men sleepily replied, “We love you too, Rog.”

Roger had slept in bed with so many people he couldn’t count them anymore, but it felt different with the three of them. It _was_ different with the three of them.

They were his.

He was theirs.


	2. Brian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rog's first time with Brian, but also some actual plot and angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! sorry it took me a while to update, but this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I originally planned, and went through some major rewrites, but that's cool bc now it's out. Enjoy the maylor chapter!

Even at night, with only a dim streetlamp to light his face, Roger Taylor was the most beautiful thing Brian, Freddie, or John had ever seen.

He walked in front of the other three and smiled slyly around a cigarette as if he didn’t notice, didn’t care that his three boyfriends watched him with lust clouded eyes. Really though, Roger wanted someone to look at him, needed them all to be looking at him. He wore Freddie’s black jacket with the embroidered flowers and nothing under it, left his chest open and bare, daring one of them to mark it up. He paired the jacket with a pair of tight leather trousers and a light streak of kohl on each eyelid that he let Freddie put on him. Roger knew he looked great, irresistible even: lately though, it seemed like his boyfriends were practiced in the art of resisting the irresistible.

“C’mon, Fred, Deaks, it was your idea to come here tonight, now you’re dragging your feet like you don’t even want to go.” Roger turned around to face his boyfriends, took another drag of his cigarette, and began to walk backwards, no care for what might be behind him. He sure that his boyfriends would protect him from walking into something, except Freddie, Freddie would let him trip for the laugh, Roger knew.

“Have you thought, Rog, that we’re walking at a normal pace, and you’re practically running?” Brian countered, smiling at the blond.  

“Yes, curly, I have, but then I thought, ‘I’m freezing my nuts off so they better pick up the pace so we can make it there before I go totally numb from the waist down.” Roger flicked the butt of his burnt-out cigarette to the ground and then turned on his heel, picking up his pace, forcing the three men behind him to do the same.

“With your shirt like that, love, you’re more likely to freeze your tits off.” Freddie caught up to Roger and yanked the blond into him with a hand on his waist, under the jacket but above his pants so that their skin touched. Freddie’s fingers were icy against Roger’s hipbone, but his skin burned at the touch.  After their first time together a week ago, the two had an intimacy that Roger didn’t yet have with either of his other two boyfriends. Of course, Brian and John excited him, but with Freddie, each touch brought back vivid memories of Freddie’s fingers on him that night. Freddie’s fingers in him that night. Each day that he didn’t share that same knowing intimacy with his other two boyfriends, Roger grew infinitely more anxious for it.

Roger longed for that feeling with John. Roger wished he knew how those deft fingers, the ones that plucked bass strings with so much practiced precision, would feel on the flushed skin of his dick while his own was buried deep in him. Roger ached to look into those green-blue eyes as he came, and for those eyes to stare back during his own orgasm. Roger wanted to feel John’s hands at the small of his back after a show, and for his cheeks to heat up at the reminder what the two had done with each other. _To_ each other.

Roger also wanted that feeling with Brian. Roger needed to know how Brian would look like in bed, if his eyes would clench shut and his brow would furrow in concentration as it did when playing a difficult solo, or if his face would open up, lips parted and jaw slightly slack in awed pleasure. Roger dreamed of what Brian would say to him, how he’d push gently for more but respect the boundaries he’d created for himself and for Roger. Roger yearned for Brian to be able to kiss him lightly, but leave Roger’s cheeks aflame with dirty thoughts, images, and memories of the two of them. Together.

The rest of the walk was relatively quiet and short, Freddie and Roger leaning on each other as Brian and John stayed back a way. Roger resented the space between them.

They could all be close, touching and teasing, if they weren’t stars, and if it wasn’t in public. But, as they were, and as it was, the four boyfriends had to stay relatively platonic during outings, trying not to draw any unnecessary or negative attention. A fact that Roger detested and pushed to the limits on a daily basis: problematic, catty thing he was.

As they got within sight of the club, and the line of people waiting outside of it, Freddie detached himself from Roger with a whispered, “You know it doesn’t make any of us feel better to do it this way, but it’s what’s best.” Roger just huffed and pulled his jacket in close to himself, possibly as annoyed at the loss of warmth of Freddie as he was at having to hide their relationship.

He plastered a fake smile on his face when they got close enough for fans and other club patrons to see them, as they all did. Roger shook hands and signed autographs, laughed at jokes and half-heartedly flirted with women, all while the only thing he wanted to do was take John’s hand one of his, Brian’s in the other, and walk into the club, proud as could be.

 _We could lose everything,_ Brian’s words echoed loudly in Roger’s mind when he felt John’s hand accidentally brush his own and his fingers twitched to link them together.

Roger could feel Freddie walking to his left, John on his right, and Brian pushing ahead of them all, so close, but the time they’d made their way through the line of people and into the club, the three other men seemed far away.

They’d talked about it before. How it needed to be when they went out. How they’d need to be careful around each other, but not completely distant or else people would think something was wrong in the band; how they needed to have fun, but not be overly touchy and arouse any sort of suspicion. It was too many rules for anyone’s liking, especially Roger’s.

_The four of them were laying in bed one night toward the beginning of their relationship, Freddie spooning Roger, and Brian with John so that they were all facing each other. “Fred’s already pretty much out, it could be the same with us. I know it’d be really hard at first, but it would get easier, and then, you know, after a while and everything dies down, we could just be us… Together.”_

_Freddie’d held Roger tighter in his arms and shook his head into the crook of his neck regretfully, apologetically._

_“It isn’t that easy, love. You know that.” Roger refused to budge on the point and untangled himself from Freddie’s embrace to sit up against the headboard of the hotel bed._

_“I’m not saying it would be easy, in fact, I did say it would get really hard at first, but don’t you think the payoff would be worth it? To be able to be together, really together, in public? Don’t you think it would be worth it to be able to actually have a relationship outside of the fucking tour bus and hotel rooms? Don’t you guys think_ we’re _worth it?” Roger crossed his arms and refused to look any of his boyfriends in the eye, knowing that if he did, they’d see beneath the anger in his voice down to the sadness and insecurity that bubbled just below the surface._

_“Rog, of course this relationship, and you, mean the world to all of us. It’s just…” Brian sat up in the bed, Roger stared at the bland beige wall. “it’s not the right time. I mean, we’d be putting our entire career on the line. We could lose everything.”_

_“It’s always going to be possible that we lose everything, all the fans, the record deals, the tours, everything. That’s never going to fucking change.” Hot tears brimmed blue eyes, and a hot knot burned his throat, but Roger just blinked them back and swallowed gently before continuing, voice raw and vulnerable. “No time will ever be better than another, in fact, the longer we wait, the more we have to lose. It’s not about timing, it’s about you. Just fucking admit it.”_

_“Rog…” John sighed and tried to reach up and tangle his fingers in Roger’s, but the blond pulled away from his hand. Roger stood up on the bed before the other could see few tears that leaked down his face, and then jumped to the ground. He hastily pulled on a pair of trousers, too tight and too long, probably Brian’s, and turned to leave the room._

_“Where are you going?” Brian called to him, about to stand up and follow. Roger moved quickly so that he wouldn’t get the chance, hand already turning the nob on the door as he turned around to face the others._

_“I figure one of us should use the room next door. Nobody ever sleeps in it, but the three of you insist on reserving it in case, and god forbid this ever happen, somebody ever stops to ask why four men sleep in one room.” The door slammed loudly as Roger left their room and stalked over to the one next door._

_Roger flopped onto the bed, pulled the duvet up and around his whole head and body, and fell asleep, pissed off at his boyfriends, and even more pissed off at the world and its stupid rules._

Four drinks in, Roger was loose and bouncy. He’d finally let go of the disappointment of not being able to drape himself all over his boyfriends and chose to enjoy the night. He danced and laughed and smoked and drank and shook himself loose from all his real-life problems. Roger danced until he was sweaty and gasping for a breath of cool air in the stifling dance floor heat.

Girls circled around Roger, not unlike the way the usually did, with ‘fuck me’ eyes and sultry smiles, but much apposed to the usual, even in his laid-back state of almost drunkenness, Roger kept a deliberate distance from them all. Sure, he pulled women in, let them grind against him or throw their arms around his neck, but he drew unsaid boundaries, so different to what he used to do and who he used to be, before it all, before _them_.

Roger never let any of the women pull his head down for a kiss, never let a hand slide below the waistline of his leather trousers, and never let any of them take his hand and lead him off the dance floor and into the bathroom for a quickie, a certain departure from his usual playboy demeanor.

Every once in a while, Roger would catch a glimpse of one of his boyfriends, and his heart would clench, for a moment he’d be pulled out of the club and into his own head. He saw Brian sat at the bar and laughing between few people; Deaky, who danced for himself, but was surrounded by fawning women, who smiled and waved softly when Roger caught his eye; and Freddie, Freddie who made Roger’s blood boil.

When Roger saw Freddie, he was pressed between two men, smiling and laughing as one whispered something into his ear, and it made Roger see red. He instantly stopped moving, startling the girl pressed against him, but he couldn’t care less. The drummer muttered a halfhearted apology before he moved to get a better look at Freddie.

Roger watched from ten feet away as the three men swayed and danced and ground together. A tall man with dark, long, hair was behind Freddie, holding the singer’s hips possessively; Roger balled his hands into fists at his side. Against Freddie’s front, a smaller blond lolled his head back to rest on Freddie’s shoulder; Roger saw red.

 If Roger had really looked, though, _really looked_ at what was going on, he would’ve seen the soft resemblance the two men held to him and Brian, and the way his hands softly, almost reluctantly, were placed on the blond’s hips. Roger, though, focused on the way Freddie had his eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, not dissimilar to the way he’d looked with Roger’s lips wrapped around his cock. He missed the reluctance and only saw Freddie delicately placed on someone else’s hip, in the same place he’d left light bruises during their first time. He focused on the blond hair nuzzling backward into Freddie’s neck, and the way it mirrored how the two of them often woke up in the morning. All of it together was too much to leave alone. John’s voice was clear, often the voice of reason in Roger’s head, telling him _don’t make a scene_ , but really, when has Roger ever listened to reason?

He couldn’t stop himself. He knew that people were watching. He realized that people would see and talk and suspect. He was aware of the consequences. Still, Roger’s feet moved faster than his brain, and in seconds he was standing right beside Freddie, who’s eyes were closed in mindless contentedness.

“Fred.” Roger’s fists were still balled up at his sides, twitching to lash out as the blond in front dared to raise an annoyed eyebrow at him while dancing with Roger’s own boyfriend.

Brown eyes blinked open, then widened quickly at the rigid anger in the way Roger stood before him. Freddie’s hips stilled between his two partners.

“Rog…” It was a warning. Freddie disentangled himself from the middle of the other two and took a step to his boyfriend. Roger wanted, needed, so desperately for Freddie to grab his hand, hold it in his own and keep him grounded, keep him from floating away on a fragile balloon of hurt and anger, one that was surely to burst below him and send the drummer hurtling back down to Earth and crush him on the impact. Instead, Freddie just stood in front of him, hands crossed in front of his body as if he were waiting for Roger’s explanation.

Roger started to rise.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Roger spit the words at Freddie, gesturing disgustedly at his boyfriend and then to the two men who stood behind them, confused.

Freddie rolled his eyes and attempted a cheeky smile to calm Roger, “I’m having fun. What are you doing, love?”

“So dancing between two people who obviously want to fuck you when your three boyf—,” Freddie cut Roger a hard look, and despite the word tasting like battery acid in his mouth Roger continued, “bandmates… are right here, is fun now?”

“I distinctly remember seeing you with two girls earlier. You seemed to be having a fairly good time.” Freddie raised an eyebrow, and kept his arms folded over his chest, as if he was talking to a petulant child, not his boyfriend.

“It’s different.” Roger grit his teeth to keep from exploding.

“How?”

_How?_

_How did Freddie not see the difference? How could he not understand that Freddie was dancing with these men because he_ wouldn’t _dance with his boyfriends, and Roger danced with women because he_ couldn’t _dance with his._

Roger blew away into the sky, the string of his balloon filtered through fingers that wouldn’t grasp him tightly. He rose on sad breezes and frustrated currents that blew him back and forth and higher into the air. He shot up in the sky on a gust of furious wind until he was too high in the sky to come down on his own. He travelled above the wet, teary clouds. He flew higher until he reached the cold night sky, alone. And then, in the crisp, horribly empty air, he popped.

“It’s different, because for weeks I’ve been begging you, any of you, to dance with me! We stood outside of this club just a while ago and you separated yourself from me, just like you always do. So, yeah, I had fun and danced with a few women because I couldn’t with you. You made a choice, a series of choices really, to not be with me, or Brian, or John tonight, instead you’re with them. You’re pressing yourself up against two men that you don’t even fucking know, but god fucking forbid you dance with your boyfr—,” Again, Roger was cut off before he could get out the word. This time, though, it was Brian who placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“Roger, you’re getting too worked up. We should go.” The tallest of the four spoke as softly as he could to Roger over the loud thump of the music. Roger looked toward him, caught, no longer hurdling toward the sidewalk, the taller man had simply reached up and caught Roger, and all the shreds of his balloon.

It was then, looking into Brian’s concerned eyes, and avoiding Freddie’s, that Roger realized he’d been in a similar situation before. The man screaming in the bar, Freddie’s surface level annoyance, but deeper anxiety, Roger interfering to make things better, the soft hand he’d rested on Freddie’s arm, the fast press of their lips against each other. This time though, it was Brian, and his warm hand on Roger’s shoulder trying to help, and it was Roger yelling at Freddie. Roger knew that there would be no kiss at the end this time.

“Rog…” Brian squeezed his hand on the blond’s shoulder, anchoring him in the moment, refusing to let the balloon blow him away.

“Let’s go.” Roger and Brian started toward the exit, Roger without a glance back at Freddie, Brian with an apologetic, pleading look. They stopped when they saw John waving the two of them over. John stood in front of a staircase, and when Brian and Roger reached him, he didn’t say anything, just started up the stairs, assuming the others would follow.

“Why are we up here?” The two followed John up the stairs, down a hallway, and into a small lounge area. Roger just wanted to go home to John’s place, even if he did sleep on the sofa that night.

“Because,” John hooked his hands into the front loops of his flared pants, “you’re acting like a child and I figure you need a time out.”

“Fuck off, Deaks, you weren’t even there. Nothing bad happened anyway.”

“I saw you causing a scene just fine from where I was standing.”

Roger stared straight at the ground, fished out his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and lit one. He breathed in through the filter, smoke and pain and longing filled his lungs. He breathed out anger, tension, and annoyance.

“If you saw it, how could you not be angry as well? How am I the only person who sees anything wrong with our boyfriend dancing with two other men?” Roger knew the answer before either of them said anything. 

_Because we aren’t out yet. Because we can’t be out yet. Because if Freddie didn’t dance with those guys it would arise suspicion. Because John, Brian, and Freddie aren’t ready, yet. And, because they aren’t ready, they don’t find anything wrong with Freddie dancing with other men. They can’t. But he could, and he did._

“We can’t be, we aren’t out.” John said it talking down to Roger, as if he’d explained it multiple times to Roger before, and the blond still didn’t get it.

He had. He didn’t.

“We could be—” Roger tried to interject, but John shook his head.

“No. We couldn’t be. Brian and I aren’t ready to be out; Freddie already deals with being called a paki and a fag all the time, you want him to take on even more negativity?” John and Roger faced off, intensity radiating off of both of them. The raging anger fire Roger previously felt fizzled into hot coals of embarrassment and hurt.

“I just think it’d be better for us—”

“You’re not thinking of us at all, actually. If you were, you’d listen when we say we’re not ready. I love you, we all love you. We want to be together, but on our own time… Roger, you’re ready, and that’s wonderful, but the rest of us aren’t.” John started off almost yelling then filtered off, still firm, but sad and apologetic.

Roger grasped for something to say. He thought about yelling back. He thought about crying and whining. He thought very hard about pushing the two of them out of the room and telling them he wouldn’t come out until they _were_ ready. 

Instead, Roger did what he did the last time they’d gotten in a fight about coming out. He ran. Roger leaned over to his left side, flicked his cigarette into the ashtray, and then stomped away, out of the VIP room and into the dark hallway.

“Rog, love—” Freddie met Roger at the end of the hallway and caught him by the wrist before the blond could make it past him. It was dark and he only caught a glimpse before Roger yanked his hand out of Freddie’s, but Freddie could make out the tears in those beautiful, blue eyes.

“Fuck off. Don’t you have those two men downstairs to get back to?” Roger started down the stairs, and again, he hoped that Freddie would catch his hand, spin the blond into himself and tell him that everything would be okay. He wanted Freddie to kiss him on the stairs, where people could see them if they just looked up. Roger especially needed, though, for Freddie not to care if they did.

Freddie didn’t though. He didn’t catch his hand, or pull him close; he didn’t kiss him, or even hold his goddamn hand. And, in that moment, Roger thought his boyfriends didn’t care about him at all.

Time blended together for Roger after that. At the beginning, he half expected one of the others to come and collect him. He drank two full beers and wondered if Deaky was on his way down to pull him back to the flat with an annoyed frown. He wasn’t. He taken a shot from between the breasts of some leggy blonde who’d wondered up behind him, and expected Freddie to take the pen from his fingers when she asked Roger to sign them afterward. He didn’t. Time passed and Roger wondered if Brian would come over to stop him from taking a sip from a woman’s martini. He wouldn’t. None of them did. Roger drank the beers, took the shot, signed the tits, and licked the rim of the glass suggestively just to make her smile and giggle. After a while, Roger let himself be led to the dancefloor.

“You should take me home.” Roger opened his eyes and smirked at the ~~girl,~~ woman, in front of him. The brunette he’d been dancing with for a bit was now facing him, and she was beautiful. Brown hair hung in loose curls around her face. She wore red lipstick on her perfectly plump lips and a tight black catsuit that hugged tightly to her tall, thin frame and dipped low in the chest to expose her cleavage. She would’ve been exactly Roger’s type, before everything changed. Before _they_ changed him.

“Maybe another night.” Even drunk, and angry, and hurt, and left alone in a disco club, Roger couldn’t bring himself to even entertain the idea of being with someone else, even for the night.

The woman just laughed and took a step closer, pressing her body close. Roger felt the material of her catsuit rub against the bare skin of his chest. He let his eyes flutter closed. He could just dance with her, right? He had, after all, been left alone for what had been at least an hour now. Surely, if his boyfriends cared at all about who he danced with, or how far he actually went with them, they’d be down here with him. They’d have been watching him. They’d have stepped in earlier. They just didn’t care.

Roger let the woman press against him. He let her lead his hips with her own in time with the music. He let her sling her arms around his neck. He let her bury her head in his neck. He let her begin to rock her hips less to the music, and more into his own. He let her tongue flick out and trace the curve of his ear. Roger let her do a lot of things he wouldn’t have if he were less drunk, less pissed off, less sad, and more carefully watched.

The woman unlatched her hands from Roger’s neck and began to slide them down, inside the open collar, and at the same time her lips pressed fully against his neck for the first time. Roger knew that her next move was to push off his jacket and suck on his neck, and he would’ve let that happen as well.

Would have.

As soon as her fingers began to push the shoulders of the jacket down, Roger heard a distinct voice. A distinctly angry voice.

“Fuck off.” Roger’s eyes opened wide, and so did the woman’s as she released Roger’s collar and took a step back. Brian stood to the side of them, hands crossed over his chest and a cold glare fixed his eyes.

“Excuse me?”  The woman Roger had been dancing with looked at Brian incredulously, Roger looked at him with barely hidden glee.

“You heard me, fuck off.” The music was booming, but Roger still heard the stern hardness of Brian’s voice.

The girl looked at Roger, as if she wanted him to say something, defend her. He just shrugged.

“Get lost.”

“What kind of stunt are you pulling?” Brian pulled Roger to the back of the club as soon as the woman stomped away. On the surface, Roger put on an annoyed face, but under it he was happy someone had finally stopped him. He had to act out, but one of them finally showed they cared.

“You tell me.” If there was one thing Roger was good at, it was getting people riled up. And if that’s what it took for Brian to give Roger attention, then so be it.

Brian huffed and rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air in an exasperated gesture, “Deaky was right, Roger, you’re acting like a fucking child.”

Roger pushed a bit more, “Are you joking, or just totally hypocritical? So, when Freddie dances with other men it’s fine, but when I dance with a woman suddenly, I’m acting like a child?”

“If you think that was just dancing, I don’t think I even want to see what you consider lewd public displays.”

The drummer scoffed, becoming genuinely annoyed, “Of course you don’t want to see it, you won’t even hold my hand in public.”

“You’re such a fucking brat.” Brian roughly grabbed Roger’s hand in his own, it was sweaty, and harsh and perfect, “are you happy now?” Truthfully, he was, but Roger wanted Brian to go further, and for that he needed to push him just a bit more.

“Do you really think that girl back there was just going to hold my hand?” Roger raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend then looked around the club. Nobody could see them, could just make out the shapes of two bodies together if they cared enough to look past a quick glance.

Brian didn’t even spare a glance anywhere else, just dropped his hand from Roger’s and pulled the smaller man into his arms. Their lips touched and even in the stifling heat of the club, a chill ran down Roger’s spine.

Brian’s lips moved fast and hard against Roger’s. All of the anger and frustration of the night came out of their mouths, but not a single word was spoken. Brian told Roger that he was sorry about everything in a flick of his tongue. Roger poured understanding and forgiveness and his own apology into the way he opened up and let Brian’s tongue in. Brian pressed all of his love for Roger into the pads of his fingertips as he ran his hands up and down the blond’s back, under his jacket. Roger gave it right back and reached his hands up to sink his hands into Brian’s mass of curls, then played with the collar of Brian’s black button up.

Roger brought his hands to the front of Brian’s shirt, never breaking the kiss, and flicked open the top two buttons, exposing a small bit of his chest. He moved to do the next one’s hoping to at least get Brian’s shirt off before the older man wised up and realized again that they were in public, but Brian’s hands caught his before Roger could get even one more open.

“I don’t want to argue again, but please, not now. Not here.” Brian whispered against Roger’s lips and the blond let out a disappointed sigh, then looked up at his boyfriend with a cheeky smile.

“What about the restroom?” Brian seemed to consider it, and Roger saw even that as a win, even as Brian frowned and shook his head.

“What about the VIP room?”

Brian shook his head again, “John checked us out of it when he and Freddie left. I was supposed to find you and bring you home right away, but I figured you needed some time to cool down.”

Roger was sure he’d burst from the worst case of blue balls if he didn’t get at least some action before the two of them went home that night, so he decided to try again once more, “What about the restroom?”

“You already suggested that.”

“Yes, but this time I really fucking need you to say yes.” Roger was sure, if there’d been better lighting in the club, he would’ve been able to actually see Brian’s pupils dilate with lust.

“Okay.” He said.

“Okay?” Roger repeated, skeptical.

Brian nodded, then licked his lips, “Okay.”

_Oh._

“Oh.”

“I still don’t think we should be too conspicuous about it.” Roger nodded, although he didn’t agree with hiding, he understood why two bandmates, even boyfriends, going into the bathroom with each other would gain some sort of reaction.

“I’ll go in first, you wait a few minutes, and then join me.” Brian waited for a nod that Roger understood, but only barely, then made a beeline for the toilets.

Roger slumped against the wall to collect himself, let the bass from the music reverberate through him and ground him. Something was going to go down in that bathroom. A make out session? For sure. A hand job? If he played his cards right. A blow job? If Brian was feeling particularly generous. Actual fucking sex? Roger wished more than anything.

Once he’d collected himself, and a few minutes passed, Roger pushed himself off the wall and started toward the bathrooms as well. He was stopped halfway there by a hand cupping his shoulder lightly. He turned around and was face to face with one of the men Freddie had been dancing with earlier in the night, the blond.

“Do you need something?’ Roger could barely contain his annoyance, first this guy practically humps his boyfriends’ legs, then he’d stopped him from following his other boyfriend into the toilets for a little action.

The blond looked Roger up and down and then smiled, “No, but it looks like you might need this.” He pulled a condom and small lube packet from his back pocket.

Roger’s eyes widened, “I don’t… I’m not…”

The other man just shook his head and laughed, not unkindly, just in that way you do when someone’s just told you a profoundly unbelievable and all together unnecessary lie, “Please. The way curly’s been watching you all night, and the fact that you’re following him into the bathroom… You’re hardly as subtle as you want to be. Don’t worry though, I won’t tell anyone that there’s three queer members of Queen instead of just the one we know of.” Roger smirked at that, if only this guy knew the whole story. He didn’t, though, so Roger just thanked him for keeping their secret (and for the lube and condom) and continued his way into the bathroom.

“Took you long enough.” Brian grabbed Roger as soon as he walked in and pressed him into the largest stall.

Roger held up the condom and lube packets between his fingers, grinning at the surprised look on Brian’s face, “a friend gave me these. Thought we might need them.” He crowded Brian up against the door of the stall when the older man tried to protest and ask questions and pressed a small kiss to his lips, then smiled sweetly, “don’t worry. He promised not to tell.”

Brian shook his head, and Roger, still a little drunk, watched his curls bounce in vivid fascination, “It’s not that… It’s just that… You really want our first time to be in a dirty club toilet?”

The blond made a show of looking all over the stall; up, down, left, right, then back up to look into Brian’s piercing eyes, “looks clean enough to me.” He leant back in and pressed little kisses and nips all around Brian’s face and mouth, but never actually kissing his lips.

“Rog. I’m serious. I thought it’d be a little bit more special for our first time together, I’m okay with it if you are. I just don’t want to do this, and then you complain for the rest of our lives that our first time was in a cramped restroom stall.”

It was Roger’s turn to shake his head, “Anytime with you is going to be special. I want this.”

“Okay.”

Okay.

The understanding broke a dam in both of them, and it took no time for the two men to be back on each other. Lips crashed against each other. Hands roamed each other’s bodies: simultaneously familiar and exploratory. Hot breath was exhaled by one person and immediately inhaled by the other. Tongues glided together and each of the two winced as teeth gnashed against each other in the careless intensity of the kiss.

Lips touched, but bodies pressed together, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough for Roger, not until he had what he really wanted, what he’d been wanting for ages. He reached up to Brian’s shirt and started undoing the buttons again, flicking them open with practiced expertise. His fingers pressed into the bare skin. He felt the heavy hammer of his heart under his hand. It was a fast beat, but steady, and Roger could follow it, would follow it, however fast or slow it told him to go.

Roger got out of his head and let Brian’s heart set the rhythm.

Finally, when Roger had worked the rest of the button’s on Brian’s shirt open, he pushed it down Brian’s shoulders, then off completely. He let his hands roam over his lover’s chest. Again, the heartbeat told him where to go, and at what speed. Roger felt his fingers flit far too fast; travelling freely and fearlessly across the expanse of Brian’s chest.

In all of his kissing and nipping and feeling, Roger hadn’t even noticed that Brian was trying to pull his own shirt off. He let him push the jacket down and shivered at the soft brush of Brian’s fingers against his arm.

Once they were both shirtless, Roger couldn’t do much more teasing or playing. Brian’s racing heartbeat roared that the guitarist couldn’t either. Roger started to work at the buckle of Brian’s belt, then the fly of his white flares. Fingers that were usually deft, especially during sexual situations, faltered a bit in their excitement.

“God, I want you so bad.” Roger hung his head low and breathed into Brian’s chest. He let his nose trace along the sweaty dip in Brian’s collarbone, then let his tongue flick out to lick it.

“Need you, too.” Brian’s hands struggled a bit more undoing Roger’s tight leather trousers, but the blond didn’t mind much, instead choosing to focus on worshipping Brian’s chest more. He nosed the middle of the taller man’s sternum, and then, before he could stop himself, or let Brian know what he was thinking, he placed his mouth over one of Brian’s nipples and sucked. Brian absolutely preened.

The hands that tried to get Roger out of his pants stopped. Roger didn’t mind much, just kept sucking. He was careful with his teeth, knew how sensitive nipples could be from the many women’s tits he’d had in his mouth before, and from the limited experience he had with his own little nibs being sucked on. It was absolutely a divine experience, feeling Brian’s nipple harden in his mouth, under his own tongue, at the same time that Brian’s dick hardens in his pants, against Roger’s hip.

He switched between the two for a while, until Brian was keening against him. He rutted against Roger, bucking wildly and without shame. One of the hands that had given up on getting Roger out of his pants had been tangled in Roger’s hair, and then used to yank the blond off when it all became too much.

“God, you need to get out of those pants right now, or I’m not sure what’ll happen.” Brian let his head slam back against the stall door.  

“Let’s not find out, then.” Roger smiled a bit to himself, even with men, whom he didn’t have much experience with, he knew exactly how to get a person right to the edge in record time. He unzipped his pants and pushed them down, hating the sticky slide of pleather against sweaty skin, regretting the choice to go commando, no matter how unflattering underwear lines were. Once they were at his knees, Roger looked back to Brian, who stared back at him intensely.

“Let’s switch places, it’ll make it easier.” Roger was so busy staring at Brian’s kiss-plump lips to pay attention, so when he felt the brunet manhandle him so that he was now against the door, he jumped.

Roger didn’t even have time to ask, ‘make what easier?’ from his new place against the door before Brian dropped to his knees. Roger opened his mouth to tell Brian, as much as he appreciated a blow job, he didn’t think he would last through one right now, when the older man picked up the packet of lube that dropped from Roger’s back pocket and held it up to show him.

_Oh._

Brian pushed Roger’s pants the rest of the way down to his ankles, and then set to work. He spread Roger’s legs as far as they could go still in the trousers.

 _God_ , Roger thought, Brian was going to be the death of him.

The blond couldn’t even watch as Brian coated his fingers in lube. The initial press of Brian’s first finger had Roger clenching.

“Relax…” Brian coaxed. Roger couldn’t bring himself to tell Brian that he hadn’t clenched because of the discomfort, rather as a reaction to the sudden pleasure. Before Brian even had a finger in him, the press of something against his hole had Roger’s body trying to cling to something that wasn’t even there, yet. The same thing had happened his first time with Freddie.

Brian had the best hands to open somebody up on. Long, slender fingers, nimble and knowing. The moment Brian had the first finger fully in Roger, the younger man had started to fuck himself down on it, panting for more and for Brian to do it harder and move it faster, all demands that Brian conceded to.

On the second finger, Roger hissed briefly at the stretch, but it didn’t take long to get used to it. After a while, Roger was sure he could’ve come just from the shallow movements of Brian fucking his fingers lightly in and out of him.

What came after the second finger really had Roger biting his tongue to keep from screaming. Brian kept pumping the two fingers he had in Roger, and then slyly bent his head down to kitten lick at Roger’s cock.

“Fuck. Fuck. Brian. Oh fuck, Brian. Oh shit. God. Fuck. Shit” Roger babbled incoherently, unsure of if he was trying to tell Brian to stop or keep going. It was too much, but too little. Roger was overstimulated but craved more. Brian definitely delivered.

He took the head of Roger’s cock fully in his mouth in the same second that he started to scissor his fingers to really stretch the smaller man. It took everything Roger had not to buck his hips into Brian’s mouth, and a little bit of extra he didn’t know he had to stop himself from coming as his boyfriend started to suck and apply pressure and use his tongue and glide it sweetly over the tip and on the underside and _God, where did Brian learn to suck cock like that?_

Part of Roger wished they weren’t in the club, so that he could be as loud as possible without risking anyone hearing them, or so that he could’ve been completely in the moment instead of straining his ear to hear if someone else was walking in to use the restroom. The other part of Roger didn’t give a fuck, and only cared about when he was going to get fucked. 

“Brian, I love you, and I love your fingers, and fucking hell I love your mouth, but you need to hurry it the fuck up.”

Brian came off Roger’s cock with an obscene _pop_ , and Roger about cried as he looked down and saw Brian grinning up at him.

“That good, huh?”

Blond hair was plastered all over his forehead and neck, but Roger didn’t care, couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything but Brian, and even then, he could only reply in a nod.

“I dunno, I was thinking about fucking you, but then I remembered what a brat you’ve been tonight, and I think we might just have to do it some other time. On a different day,” Roger’s blue eyes bugged out of his head at the suggestion that Brian could possibly leave him hanging, “a day where you’ve been… good.” Brian’s fingers had stopped moving in Roger, and the younger man almost sobbed.

“I’ll be good. I’ll be so good, just tell me how to be good, Brian, I’ll be so good for you.” Brian’s fingers stayed still as Roger babbled.

“What about John and Freddie? Will you be good for them, too?” Brian’s fingers started to move again.

Roger nodded furiously, “So good. I’ll be so good for all of you, Brian, just please fuck me.”

“Are you sorry for how you acted tonight?” Another finger prodded at Roger’s entrance, the best feeling Roger had felt in a while.

“I’m so sorry. I feel bad, so bad. I’m sorry for pushing you guys. And for being fucking cunt about it. And for letting that woman be all over me like that. I’m so sorry, I just wanted to be with you, and you didn’t want to be with me, so I was acting out, but I’m sorry now.” At Roger’s apology, Brian started to seriously fuck Roger with his fingers again, all three of them then working to open the blond as quickly as possible for his boyfriend’s cock.

“And you’ll tell them that when we get home?” Brian could tell that Roger was almost ready, but that he was also extremely close to blowing his load, and he needed to keep Roger talking to keep him from coming early.

Roger groaned in frustration and fucked himself down on Brian’s fingers, “Yes, I’ll fucking tell them I’m sorry. Now will you please just fuck me?”

With one last press up of his fingers against Roger’s prostate, Brian slowly slid his fingers out. The taller man took a moment to push his own pants and briefs down to his ankles, and stood in front of Roger, his hard dick rigid and proud.

“Turn around.” Roger flipped himself around lightning fast at Brian’s command. The blond was glad that the two of them didn’t face each, or else Brian would’ve seen the tear of relief that rolled down his cheek at the initial press of Brian’s lubed-slicked dick against his hole.

As far as first times go, Brian and Roger’s was exactly like all first times, but so very different.

Of course, there was the initial awkwardness; despite both of them having experience with sex. Roger’d never had someone’s dick up his ass while standing, so he didn’t know how to wrap a hand around his cock to jerk himself off without his forehead nailing the door on each of Brian’s thrusts. Brian had never had sex with a man before at all, which made the tightness of Roger’s hole an otherworldly experience that had him so close to coming he didn’t move for almost a full minute.

But after the awkwardness subsided, and Roger found a good angle to prop his head up with one arm and jerk himself off with another, and Brian was finally able to move without blowing it all, it was great. Brian pounded into Roger with deep, powerful thrusts, bringing the shorter man onto his toes almost every time. Roger fucked himself back onto Brian and swore he could feel him in his stomach. Brian was long, longer than all of the rest of them by quite a bit, and Roger couldn’t get enough, refused to let go of even a millimeter.

“You’re so good. God, yes, Bri, fuck me good.” Roger’s breathy encouragement and high-pitched moans brought Brian to the edge of his climax. The tile walls of the bathroom amplified every sound they made and sent it echoing, from the slap of Brian’s balls against Roger’s cheeks to the slick sound of Roger using his own precum to jerk himself off in time with Brian’s thrusts.

“I’m gonna come!” Roger, having forgotten the pair was in public, all but yelled his impending orgasm as Brian hit his prostate. The dark-haired man slapped a hand over his mouth quickly, leaning into the blond’s neck and shushing him softly.

“Quiet, love. We don’t want anyone coming in here and finding you like this, do we?” The guitarist might’ve just have been talking to a brick wall, because Roger simply didn’t care what he had to say. He wanted to come. He needed to come. He was going to come.

He let the hand on his cock speed up, and on one particularly hard thrust from Brian against that wonderfully sensitive spot within him, Roger let himself go. He came all of the stall door, spasming to the point where, if Brian wasn’t still fucking him with an arm around his waist, Roger would have surely fallen to the ground on his shaky legs.

“C’mon Bri, come for me… Come in me.” And that was all it took, dirty talk and post-orgasm clenches for Brian to shoot his load. Brian bit down on Roger’s shoulder to stifle his own yelling and moaning. Roger winced, but just reached around a hand to run his fingers lightly through Brian’s hair.

“That was really good.” Roger whispered to Brian as his boyfriend pulled out, still plastered to the restroom door. Once Brian had backed up enough, Roger pulled his trousers back up and moved to take a seat on the toilet. He needed a break.

Brian looked at him with a dopey smile from where he’d bent down to Roger’s jizz off the door with a wad of tissue. “It was great, wasn’t it?”

“It really was.” Roger stood up and stretched his arms above his head with a nod and a soft yawn, “Let’s get out of here.”

They left the same way they came in, separately, a few minutes apart. Though they both knew if anyone had really been watching for them, they would’ve known the men had been in the bathroom together for a half hour, and that when they came out, the blond had an enormous hickey that hadn’t been there before, and the brunet was wearing his shirt on inside out.

Roger saw the blond man from earlier and looked away with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. The stranger just laughed.

When they got back to John’s flat, Roger felt a rush of guilt.

It was true what his boyfriends said earlier, that he pushed for too much from them before they were ready. He knew they were right about that, and that he definitely had been acted immaturely all night. He needed to apologize to the two of them. He’d apologized to Brian, and it definitely counted, even if he’d done it mainly to get the other man to fuck him, but he definitely needed to apologize to Freddie and Deaky.

They were both still awake when Brian and Roger crept into the bedroom, snuggled together and talking in low voices, they stopped when the other two entered the room, though, and both sat upright in bed.

“What the fuck took you so long, Bri? I know it was a big place, love, but I really don’t think it could’ve taken you three hours to find our little blond darling.” Freddie raised an eyebrow at the two who’d just arrived, waiting for an answer as the two of them got undressed.

Roger winced lightly as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his socks. Freddie’s eyes widened and then a huge grin broke onto his face.

“You perverts! You got it on in the club bathroom, didn’t you?” There was only one lamp on in the bedroom, but even in the soft light, Freddie could see Brian’s cheeks flaming.

“You did!”

“We did.” Roger grinned at Freddie, then at Brian, but when he turned to look at John, the youngest of the group wasn’t smiling.

“You did?” John’s voice was soft in a way it only got when he suddenly felt insecure about something, and Roger felt sick to his stomach that he made his boy feel that way. Roger didn’t know if John was upset about the events of the night while they were together, or that Brian and Roger had sex. It didn’t really matter, though, it was still him who’d done it.  

“I have to get a drink of water, I’ll be back.” Again, Deaky used the soft voice, and it broke Roger’s heart. Brian slid into the spot John had occupied as soon at he left, tucking himself into Freddie as the two oldest talked about how Brian and Roger’s first time had been.

Roger took a moment, decided that he would talk to John the moment he got into bed, and then took his place next to Brian, lying face up and pressed against Brian’s back, as Brian faced Freddie.

“So, who was better? Me, or Brian?” Roger couldn’t help but laugh at Freddie, without even looking at him, the blond could tell he was grinning at him, knowing that there was no way he could even compare the two.

“Can’t say I particularly enjoyed with either of you.” Roger feigned boredom, a hand reached dover to smack Roger slightly in the chest.

“You’re a fucking menace.”             

“That he is, Bri. That he is…” The three were silent for a bit, and then Freddie sighed, “Rog… You need to talk to John, he’s upset about the argument you two had earlier. I’ve already gotten over it, because I know that you’re an asshole who wants what’s best but goes about it in the worst ways, but you really hurt him tonight. Especially now because you’ve fucked both Brian and I. He probably feels a bit left out…. I just think, love, that it would be best if you talked to him about it, about everything.”

Roger nodded, then realized they couldn’t see him nod, and spoke softly, “I know. I will.”

“I’ve got errands to run tomorrow, so I think it’s well past my bedtime. Love you guys, goodnight.” Brian had nothing more to add to the conversation, knowing both John and Roger, he figured they’d work things out.

“I’m afraid I’m in the same situation. Rog, tell John we love him if and when he decided to come back to bed.” Freddie turned off the last lamp and cast the bedroom in total darkness. Roger felt cagey without John beside him.

He let a few more minutes pass before Roger eventually rose from the bed and padded his way into the kitchen. John sat at the table, no sign of the water he’d said he was getting. He didn’t move when he heard Roger in the kitchen. The blond grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with milk from the fridge.

“Do you want it warmed up?” He asked softly, hoping to break his boyfriend out of his little trance.

“Huh?”

“I’ve got a glass of milk for you, would you rather I put it on the stove and warm it up for you?”

John shook his head, “No thank you.”

Roger walked over with the mug and then sat down right next John, close enough to wrap the younger man in his arms, but no matter how small the physical distance, mentally, John was miles away from him.

“I’m sorry.” John continued to stare into space. Roger pushed forward, “I’m sorry that I acted like a right cunt tonight. I’m sorry that I’ve been pushing you all for weeks for something you’re not ready for. I get it now,” He thought about it for a second, “actually, no, I don’t get it, but I respect it. I respect that you’re not ready. And I’m willing to wait until you are.”

“I don’t care about what happened tonight.”

“You don’t?”

John shook his head, “Well, I do care, but it’s not what I’m upset about. That could’ve happened any day, and of course we’re going to have fights, we’re in a relationship. I’m not upset that we had a fight.”

“Then what—” John scoffed and stood up from the table.

“It’s not that hard to understand, Rog. I’m upset because I’m your last choice. Always. I was the person you kissed last, the person you chose to kiss last the second time around, and now I’m the last one of us to have sex with you. Do you see the pattern? Because it seems very obvious to me.” John still didn’t look at Roger, but he didn’t make any attempt to move out of the kitchen either, it was a good sign, it meant he was willing to hear Roger out.

The problem was that Roger didn’t have anything to say. The first kiss had been circumstance, the second didn’t even feel like it was him making a choice, more just one kiss after another. With the sex thing, Freddie was the best option, they’d talked about it, it had seemed like a mutual decision, Freddie first because he had experience, they didn’t say an order for the other two because they figured it would just fall into place. That night, he and Brian had just fallen into place. How could he explain it that way to John, though?

“You know I love you, right Deaks?”

“I know you love me, just sometimes it feels like you love me, _too_.”

“What does that mean?” Roger stood up from the table and walked in front of his boyfriend. He needed John to look into his eyes and tell him what he meant, because really, Roger was having a hard time figuring it out.

“You love Brian. Ever since the Smile days, before I was even in the band, you loved him, even if you didn’t know it yet. You love Freddie, How can you not? He’s magnetic and passionate and fierce and gorgeous. You love him. And I know you love me. I do. It just seems like sometimes you love me, _too_. Like it isn’t natural, like you wouldn’t if we weren’t in a band together. You love me, in addition to the other two, not all on my own.” Roger’s heart broke listening to his boyfriend, especially the way his eyes darted everywhere, anywhere, to not look into Roger’s eyes.

“Deaky.” He still wouldn’t look up, “John. Look at me, please.” Green-blue eyes met Roger’s finally, and he wanted to cry. John’s eyes were red and brimmed with tears, as if he’d recently cried and was ready to go again.

“I love you. No too. No in addition. No other add on’s or stupid phrases. I love you. I love you so much that I’m afraid to mess it up so bad. I swear. I swear on my fucking life that you haven’t been consciously last at all. Ever. You’re the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night because I can’t fall asleep without knowing you’re right there next to me. I’m not sure what else I can say, but I promise I’ll show you. I’ll do anything and everything you need to feel loved, and more on top of that because I love you and you deserve more than everything.” Roger felt a tear leak down his cheek for the third time that night, but for the first time, there was someone looking at him when he said it. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

This time, it was John who had nothing to say, no rebuttal or response or comment, so he said the only thing he knew for sure he had to say to Roger, “I love you, Rog.”

“I love you, Deaky.” Roger grabbed his hand and led John back to the bedroom, noticing that the brunet’s grip was weaker in his than usual. Roger’s heart broke again.

Once they were settled into bed, Roger reached out to play with John’s hair, the same way he did every night, but John carefully batted his hand away, “Not tonight.” A hot ball crawled its way up Roger’s throat, daring him to make a sound that wasn’t a hurt whimper.

“Can I still hold your hand?” Roger hated the way his voice sounded like he was going to cry, but still, he needed this one thing.

John heard Roger’s voice and a ball of his own choked the bassist. He didn’t speak, only reached one hand down to knot his fingers with Roger’s, and slowly pet the other one through Roger’s blond bangs.

Just as he was starting to fall asleep, John heard Roger’s voice in a low whisper, “I love you more than anything, Deaky. I’ve just got to find a way to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highkey, this is what I imagine poly!queen like when I'm writing (also the jacket Rog is wearing this chapter!) (http://glamidols.tumblr.com/post/123799371670/queen-1973)


	3. Deaky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Deaky work some stuff out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter by far. I'm a joger bitch, sue me.

_Roger woke up early the next morning, Freddie and Brian still asleep behind him, and John’s back to him. Sometime in the night, the youngest of the four had turned away from Roger and curled in on himself._

_Roger reached over to John, only a few inches, but it separated them like miles in a cramped bed, and placed a light hand on John’s shoulder. When the brunet didn’t move or flinch, Roger allowed himself to slide a bit closer, letting his arm move until it was draped over John’s torso. There, huddled in close to John, knowing Freddie and Brian were also right there, Roger felt more complete than he had in a while._

_He stayed awake for a bit, pressing his face into John’s shoulder and whispering his love into his skin and into the soft glow of dawn that blanketed the room._

_Sleep soon claimed Roger again, but if he’d held out just a bit longer, he would’ve felt John tense uncomfortably, lightly push his arm off of him, and scoot closer to the edge of the bed, farther away from Roger._

_Maybe it’s better he was sleeping._

A week passed of John giving Roger the cold shoulder like that.

At night, he stopped facing Roger while he slept in the middle, and chose to stay on the outside, claiming he was overheating. In the morning, he got out of bed fast, purposefully missing the predictable part of the morning where Roger would stretch out on the bed and demand a kiss and cuddle from all three of them. During the day, if they did something together, John would hang around the outside, not close to any of them, but distinctly avoiding Roger; if they went their separate ways, none of them would see the bassist until he returned at night, often with tired eyes and stiff movements.

But Roger was trying. Really, he was. At night, he wouldn’t let John sleep before he got to tell him “I love you”. In the morning, he’d join John for a morning cigarette and let his fingers linger on John’s for just a moment longer than normal, watch for a twitch that would let him know to fully take his boyfriend’s hand in his own, but they remained still. During the day, if they did something together, Roger asked for John’s opinion on everything: his clothes, where they ate lunch, if he also thought Brian’s hair looked extremely fluffy on that particular day. He let John physically stay on the outside, but made him the center of everything else. If, during the day, they went their separate ways, Roger would return from whatever he was doing as early as possible and perch himself on the sofa to wait for John, never letting the bassist walk in the room without asking him to sit with him.

 Not much progress was being made, and with each day Roger grew more frantic about the situation. Brian and Freddie had definitely noticed the chill that wafted around John recently, despite neither Roger or John bringing it up to them. One day though, they’d both had enough and decided to find out what was going on between their youngest boyfriends.  

“What’s been going on with you and Deaky?” Roger had only just crossed the threshold into Freddie’s flat when Brian spoke, leaning against the wall of the hallway, Freddie mirroring him in the other side.

Roger’s heart clenched and he searched for the words. He let the door shut behind him, toed off his shoes, and then let himself fall against the door he’d just closed.

“Well?” Freddie demanded, and even though he didn’t seem angry or overly assertive, Roger felt himself breaking down.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and let out an equally shaky breath, the brave face he put on for the two of them started to crumble. “I think I’ve fucked everything up.”

“What do you mean?” Freddie approached Roger quickly, Brian closely behind him.

Tears welled up in his eyes and Roger shut his them tightly when he felt the first few leak out, he had no right to fucking cry. It was his fault they were even in that position and he hadn’t even had the decency to tell his other two boyfriends what was going on.

“Deaky thinks I don’t love him, and I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to show him that I do.” Each word was heavy and painful in his mouth, but even heavier and more painful in his chest where they had been living and crawling around for the last week.

Strong fingers wiped the tears from his face and Roger knew without opening his eyes that they were Brian’s.

A large part of Roger knew that he’d have known that before they’d had sex: that he knew, from hundreds of innocuous moments, what Brian’s hands felt like against his skin. The smaller part, the somehow infinitely louder part though, told him that he wouldn’t recognize John’s hands, that he couldn’t feel them and know them the same way he felt and knew Brian’s or Freddie’s, that it was small things like that that pushed John away from him.

The thought only made Roger chest ache more.

“Why would he ever think that?” Brian’s voice was soft and warm and not at all what Roger thought he deserved.

“Because he’s always last. And I don’t try hard enough. And he says that he knows that I love him, just that I love him _too_. And I don’t fucking get it, except that I know exactly what he’s talking about because I would feel the same way if it were the other way around. But I don’t fucking know how to change his mind when he won’t even fucking look at me. And it’s not just affecting us two. It’s affecting all of us now, and I really don’t know what the fuck to do because I love him so much, I’m just the fucking worst at it and the best thing I’ve ever had is falling apart all because I’m a fucking idiot, which isn’t new, but it is the fucking worst.” Roger’s eyes were still closed, and he was out of breath from his emotional tirade, but he felt a weight lift off his shoulders at having told the other two how he was feeling.

If only the weight on his chest would let up as well.

“Ever the drama queen, aren’t you, love?” Roger opened his eyes incredulously at Freddie, watching as Brian flicked a hand to hit him in the chest. The singer just looked like he was trying not to laugh, only a bit sympathetic to his crying boyfriend.

“I’m sure what you just said was very healthy for you to get off your chest, and I love you, but it didn’t make any goddamn sense,” another smack from Brian but Freddie just rolled his eyes and pressed on, “Rog, love, can you please explain what you just said again, but this time less rambling and a bit slower.”

So he did. Roger told Freddie and Brian about what John said. He explained, word for word, how John was feeling, and what part he played in it. As he talked, Brian and Freddie both furrowed their brows in deep concentration.

They moved, eventually, out of the apartment walkway and into the main sitting room. Roger sat, sandwiched between the two on the sofa as he talked through John’s feelings, and his own. He talked about how it had all gotten worse over the last week and how he wanted to prove that he loved and needed John as much as he loved and needed them, but that it was so incredibly difficult to put into words and actions something that felt as natural and right and assured as breathing.

Roger talked for the better part of an hour, mostly uninterrupted by Freddie and Brian. He talked and talked and talked, and all of it was important and valid and true, but, really though, everything he said was easily boiled down into a single sentence at the end.

“I love him.” Three words that held so much meaning, or none at all, depending on how it was said, and who about. Three words that were so broad, so general, that, if he hadn’t just been talking about John, there would have been no way to tell who it was said about.

No way to tell, except for the way Roger licked his lips before he said “I”: slowly, as if preparing for a confession. No way to tell, except for the quick upward quirk of his mouth, a half smile teasing at all of the memories and stories and sweet nothings left unsaid before he said “love”. No way to tell, except for the way he said “him”, even pronounced correctly, somehow rhymed with “John”. No way to tell, except for the hitched breath after the phrase and the indescribable depth and meaning and heart and _love_ hidden behind the three simple words.

There was no way to tell who Roger was talking about. Except, of course, that there was.

“Rog…” Freddie squeezed Roger’s hand, pulsed love and understanding and sympathy through his fingertips and hoped it would reach him.

“I’m just not quite sure what to do.” His voice was soft in tone, but rough and gravelly from the tears.

“I don’t understand how he could feel that way. Sometimes, watching the two of you interact, I wonder if you love him the most.” Roger’s head snapped quickly, turning from where he’d been looking between Freddie and the way their hands were linked together, to Brian, eyes wide open in surprise.

“What do you mean by that?” The way the conversation was going was not making him feel even a bit better. All of his boyfriends thought he had a favorite. His heart pounded in his chest.

_I’m doing this all wrong._

“Rog, dearest, before this last week, the only person you ever cared about sleeping by was him. You two curl up next to each other in the middle and have your little midnight chats, in your own little world. Not to say that it isn’t quite cute, but at times Brian and I do tend to feel a bit… Left out.”

_Freddie and Brian both feel that way?_

_I’m fucking everything up._

_I’m ruining this._

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Rog. It’s not a big deal. The point of that was to say that _we_ can see how much you love Deaky. He just needs to see it too.” Again, Freddie squeezed, this time trying to calm his boyfriend down.

“I know… I just feel like such a shit boyfriend, you all put up with my pushing and moods and all of my other numerous faults and I love you so much for it, only for me to find out that I’m also excluding all of you. I didn’t think that was even possible, but trust me to fuck up in even the most impossible ways.”

“You’re not a shit boyfriend, Roger. Don’t forget that you put up with all of us just as much as we put up with you.” Brian grabbed Roger’s chin lightly, tilted his head back, and pressed a light kiss to his parted lips. “You deal with John and his insecurities.” He punctuated the sentence with a kiss. “You deal with me and how hard headed I am.” Another soft press of lips. “You deal with Freddie and just… You know, Freddie.” Before Brian could kiss him again, Freddie reached over Roger to pinch Brian’s nipple through his shirt. The taller man yelped and leaned back as Roger and Freddie erupted into giggles.

“Fucker!” Brian reached over his hand to smack Freddie in the chest. Roger laughed harder, lips splitting open into a grin.

“I’m the fucker? You said my whole personality was something he has to deal with!” Freddie tried to sound offended, but his bright smile gave the whole thing away.

“Fred, your personality is something we _all_ have to deal with.” The three of them laughed for loud, full minutes, the tears leaking out of their eyes not at all sad, but just as cathartic. Still, with only three on the couch, it felt empty.

The other two seemed to feel Roger sober up because they quickly did as well.

“Alright,” Brian cleared his throat, his cheeks still rosy from laughter, he looked so beautiful that Roger had to restrain himself from leaning over and kissing those pink lips again, “What’s the plan?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Helpful, Rog. Very helpful.” Brian seemed to still be in a joking mood, but Roger snapped out of it quickly. He stood up from the couch and turned to face his two boyfriends.

“I’m serious. I have no fucking clue how to show him how much I love him.” The blond paced the sitting room nervously.

“Obviously, you have to show him you care. You have to do something for him that has nothing to do with the two of us. A day or night all about him, do stuff that you know he likes, eat food you know he wants. You know him. You know all of us. Just show him you do.” Freddie said it like it was simple, when in reality, it was one of the hardest challenges he’d ever been faced with.

“But what do I _do_?” Roger pleaded. He needed ideas, plans, something, anything.

“Go see a movie.” Brian threw the idea out and then shook his head.

“Show Deaky I love him by taking him somewhere I won’t talk to him for two hours, are you joking?”

“You both like cars. Take him to a car show or something.”

“Freddie, I love you, but that was such a stupid idea I can’t even explain it.”

“Make him dinner.”

“Brian, we’re supposed to be giving Roger ideas to make Deaky feel loved, which sort of excludes poisoning him.”

“Come on… He can’t be that bad. Can he? Can you, Rog?” Brian looked between Freddie, who looked afraid at the mere though of eating something Roger had made, and Roger, who looked equally embarrassed and defiant.

“I think dinner might be out of the question.”

“But Rog… Think about it, you’re making something with your own hands, just for him! You’ll make something he likes so that he can see just how much you know him and care about what he likes, and he probably also knows you’re a terrible cook, so it’ll make it that much better if you pull it off. Also...” Brian’s encouraging smile turned cheeky and both Roger and Freddie knew something was coming before he even said it, “If you kill him with your awful cooking, your last words to him can be really romantic and he’ll have no choice but to love you for the rest of his life.”

Freddie hit Brian in the chest again, trying to keep his laughter in. “Rog… Although he ended with that awful joke, Brian’s idea might not be that bad. Make dinner for John, we’ll be conveniently out of the house, and you two can make up and possibly… Make love.” Freddie waggled his eyebrows and Roger rolled his eyes. He loved them to pieces, but there was no doubt in his mind that Roger was dating three fools.

Honestly, Roger would rather not cook because, as Freddie reminded them, he didn’t really want to poison his boyfriend. But, if he could actually pull it off, and make dinner for John, then they could talk after, work things out, move forward. Be happy. Be together.

_Dinner it was_

“Dinner it is.”

The rest of the time before John came home, the three of them planned out what would happen.

The following Friday, Brian and Freddie would pretend to have to go to the studio for something and leave whoever’s home they were at, and John would inevitably leave to avoid being home alone with Roger for very long. After a few hours, an ample amount of time for Roger to get his flat ready and hopefully make an edible meal, Freddie would call John from the studio to wherever he was in a fake panic and tell him that he needed to get to Roger’s as soon as possible. John would make his way over to Roger’s, where Roger would be ready and waiting to pour his heart out (hopefully not his guts as well, but that depended how well Roger did on the cooking). John would realize Roger loves him and they’d make up (and yes, hopefully make love). A few hours later, Freddie and Brian would come home, and everything would be great. They’d be happy. They’d be together.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan, no plan that revolved around Roger’s cooking skills ever could be, but it was good enough that they decided Roger should go through with it.

By the time John got home that night, Freddie and Brian had turned in, making their way to the bedroom and leaving Roger to wait on the sofa for John, like he always did.

“Hey Deaks, come sit with me for a bit?” Roger called as John approached the sitting room.

The bassist opened his mouth, and Roger’s heart dropped as it did every night as John brushed him off with a shy and apologetic, “not tonight" or “I’m tired” or sometimes a simple shake of his head. In all of their romantic gesture planning, Roger had almost forgotten the need for the gesture in the first place.

“Please.” It was the first time he’d even thought to add it at the end, but it made all the difference, because John smiled at him and walked over to the sofa.

“Of course.” It was release and relief better than any orgasm as John sat next to Roger and tucked himself into the blond’s side.

They sat quietly for a while, Roger was completely sure John could hear the fast pounding of his heart, but he didn’t care. There were so many things he wanted to say, even more things he wanted John to say, but Roger stayed quiet, let himself feel John’s body against his in a way he hadn’t felt in a week.

He was touched starved and with every passing moment John fed him. Every minute he spent with his boyfriend’s arms around his waist filled him up another time over and Roger didn’t dare move his arm from where it was draped around John’s shoulders in fear that a too sudden movement would make John get up.

“Rog,” John started after a while, and Roger’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t make himself respond.

“Rog.” This time, John lifted his hands from Rogers waist and sat up on the couch, removing himself from where he was almost in Roger’s lap. Roger tried to avoid his eyes as long as he could, hoping that John wouldn’t see the light brimming of tears.

“Yeah?” It was the only thing he could say.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been acting quite horribly to you lately.” _John was apologizing?_

“You haven’t been acting—”

“Yes, I have been. And it isn’t alright. I guess I’ve just been having a rough time sorting my own feelings out and I’ve been treating you quite poorly.” John sounded so guilty Roger’s heart broke even further than it had been. It had felt, all along, like John was pushing Roger away, but now he could see that John had really been isolating himself the entire time, and the weight of it all was crushing him as well.

“You don’t have to be sorry for feeling a certain way.” Roger whispered it, finally meeting John’s sad eyes.

John nodded, “I’m not apologizing for my feelings, I’m apologizing for my actions.”

Before Roger could tell him that he didn’t need to apologize at all, John pressed his lips against Roger’s.

The two of them hadn’t kissed beyond a goodbye peck on the side of the mouth since before the club, but it didn’t take much to set them off in a familiar, if a bit needy, rhythm.

Tired of kissing with their heads turned at neck-breaking angles, John took a moment to position himself on top of Roger, kneeling over him with his legs bracketing Roger’s. His hands buried themselves in Roger’s hair and John relished in each of the small moans the blond let out.

Roger initially put his hands on John’s hips, but after only a moment of passionate kissing, he slid his hands further down to cup his ass through his jeans. John groaned and let his head loll back a bit when Roger squeezed his hands. The drummer took it in stride and started working down John’s neck and jawline with kisses.

Roger’s cock was hard and ready and wanting under his boyfriend, and he could tell John was the same way. Neither of them could keep from bucking into each other, and after a bit the fast and jerky movement slowed into a purposefully slow rocking, enough to keep each other wanting more, but not quite enough to get off.

That’s why, when John suddenly unhooked his arms from around Roger’s neck and sat back onto his heels, Roger was frozen.

_Had they gone too far? Was this not what John wanted?_

His fears were quickly shut down, though, as John reached down to the hem of his own shirt and pulled it over his head.

_Oh._

“Oh.” No time for anything further than ‘oh’, because John was making quick work in ridding Roger of his shirt the same way he’d just done to himself.

Roger let his t-shirt be pulled off as he stared up in awe at his boyfriend. He looked ethereal: hair all over, lips kissed pink, whole body flushed, rosy nipples hard as ice, but fire hot, the most beautiful thing Roger had ever seen.

“Beautiful.” Roger couldn’t help but let it tumble out of his mouth, it was the truth after all, John looked beautiful.

If he hadn’t been blushing before, John definitely was then. Instead of responding, he just ducked his head back down and captured Roger’s lips again.

It was different, more erotic, faster, deeper, harder now that there was more skin contact between them. Tongues licked into each other’s mouths and teeth nibbled on bottom lips bravely. Small breaths between the two turned into heaving gasps in the far between moments that they came up for air from one another.

Roger’s cock, which had begun to fill out before, was now fully hard in his pants and strained to be released, strained for release.

“Love you so much, Deaks.” He mumbled it against John’s lips, needing to say it, but needing the feel of John against him in every place possible, more.

For seconds, or minutes, or hours, or days they sat together on the couch, pressing themselves into each other desperately, filling the room with gasps and moans and keens.

Roger felt a hand trail down his chest, and he suspected immediately what John was going for, and when his boyfriend let his fingers dance around the waistband of his jeans, he knew for sure. John let his other hand drop from behind Roger’s neck to join the other in working Roger out of his trousers, but never once let his lips move away from Roger’s skin.

“Move your hips up.” At John’s command, Roger was made acutely aware of what they were doing. What they might do.

“Deaky are you sure you want to?” Both of them stopped, and John sat back again to look at Roger.

“Do _you_ not want to?” He asked, and Roger could see the far away hurt and insecurity welling up in his eyes.

“I want to. More than anything. I just… Do you really think now is the right time? On the couch? With our other two boyfriends also in the house?” Roger hoped he was saying things right, that John understood just how much he needed him, but that he wanted their first time to be special, better than rushed couch sex, because that’s what he deserved.

The hurt and insecurity didn’t leave his eyes, but John did nod understandingly. “I s’pose you’re right.” The younger man moved to get up from the couch, but Roger pulled him back down.

“Now, I don’t think we should do _everything_ , tonight, but we can definitely do _almost_ everything.” John licked his lips at Roger words, and the blond instantly knew he’d said the right thing.

“What’s ‘almost everything’?” The bassist let his hand slide back up Roger’s shoulders and link around the back of his neck again.

“It’s this.” Roger kissed John lightly. “And this.” Again, but deeper, and for a bit longer. “And this.” Roger and John easily got back into the rhythm they had earlier, needy and pulling, but now with a distinct stopping point, a line in the sand they wouldn’t cross.

“And this.” This time, it was Roger who reached for John’s trousers, flicking open the button-fly with new, practiced ease. “And this.” The angle was a bit off, but Roger pulled John’s dick out of his trousers and started stroking it up and down. “And this.” Roger moved his hand faster and tried out things he knew he liked when he was doing it to himself. He slowed down a bit and thumbed the slit, rubbed precum all over the head of John’s dick, then sped back up.

John couldn’t keep himself still in Roger’s hands, fucking up into his hands and shifting his hips to get more of anything. To get more of everything.

“C’mon Rog.” John burrowed his head in Roger’s neck as his boyfriend kept jerking him off. He knew, on some level, that he should’ve been returning the favor, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the delightful sensation of Roger’s hand on his dick.

Closer and closer. Roger pulled him toward the edge, jerking him off so nicely, so well, so good.

John couldn’t help the moans that fell out of his mouth, loud and unabashed in pleasure.

“God, you sound so good, babe, but you gotta be quiet, Bri and Fred are in the other room.” John was so beyond caring. Bri and Fred didn’t even register to John as people he knew, in that moment, in the last few seconds before climax, John only knew Roger. He knew how good Roger was for him, how good he was _to_ him. He knew that Roger was his and he was Roger’s so completely that he didn’t hold himself back, couldn’t hold himself back as he arched up and came with a loud cry.

Roger slowed his strokes, but didn’t stop completely until John pushed his hand away from his cock, too sensitive for any more. After, John let himself slump ungracefully against Roger, still not even in the mindset to think about Roger, or returning the favor for him. By the time he was, and John looked down at Roger, he felt the wet spot from Roger’s own crotch soaking threw both layers of trousers.

“You…” John wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring himself past the first word, in complete awe that Roger had come just from jerking John off.

Roger nodded sheepishly, “Yeah. I did.”

“That’s really hot.”

“It is?” Roger looked up at him shyly, but John didn’t see what Roger had to be shy about.

“Yeah.” John leaned down to kiss Roger once more. “It is.”

They took a few more minutes to come down before making their way to the bedroom, and immediately as they walked in, the air around John seemed to change.

Brian and Freddie were curled around each other in the middle of the bed, both sleeping soundly. Roger didn’t know what set him off. Maybe it was seeing two men Roger had had sex with already, and the reminder that what they just did, although very good, was not sex. Maybe it was the intimate way Brian’s fingers were softly tangled in Freddie’s hair, a mirror to the way John and Roger used to be every night. Maybe it had nothing to do with them, and John just shut down all on his own, no trigger or anything else. It could’ve been anything. It didn’t matter what it was.

All Roger knew, was that, while getting undressed of their soiled clothes, and into fresh bed clothes, John’s shoulder, still a bit flushed and sweaty and warm from just a bit earlier, began to frost over.

John got into bed on one side of Brian without even a look or a goodnight to Roger.

Roger didn’t even know what he’d done wrong, if he had even done anything wrong.

The only goodnight he did get, as Roger rested his arm around Freddie’s torso, was the older man turning his head to him and sleepily whispering, “You better not have gotten cum on my couch.”

Roger wished he could’ve laughed at that. He didn’t, he couldn’t. He was too busy watching as John turned around at the comment, turning his back on all three of them.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

 

Roger looked down at the recipe card Freddie pressed into his hand on the way out of the door earlier that morning and groaned. The recipe on the card was easy, a simple pasta dish Freddie had made for them a few times that John always seemed to take second and third helpings of. The problem was that, as Roger was putting the pasta into the water, the recipe card that was also in his hand dropped into the boiling water.

Roger had immediately done everything he could to try and save the card, but the ink had already started to run, and the light patting Roger did to try and dry it only made the running worse.

 _Fuck_ , he was screwed.

The card, held delicately in the palm of Roger’s hand, was completely illegible. So yes, the recipe was easy, but following a recipe that he couldn’t read was not.

Roger tried his best, he really did, but when the pasta started to boil over, and the bacon he was cooking to go in it started to burn, and he couldn’t remember what kind of cheese went into the sauce, Roger knew that whatever dinner he was planning for Deaky was off the table.

Roger looked at the clock, five o’clock, about an hour and a half until Freddie was supposed to call John and Roger didn’t have dinner, or anything romantic enough to say to make up for the fact that he didn’t have dinner. Roger had nothing, and if he didn’t come up with something soon, he’d really mess everything up with John.

He pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and thought about what to do as he took long, stressed hits.

He could write a poem. _Too kitschy._

He could write a song. _No._

He could play a romantic song by someone else. _Not personal enough._

He could make a second attempt at dinner. _NO!_

Every idea that came to Roger’s mind was complete shit, and as he got close to the last drags of his cigarette, he felt hopeless. He needed John to know how much he loved him, what he loved about him specifically, why he loved those things. Roger needed to somehow show and tell his boyfriend exactly what he meant to him.

As soon as the idea came to his mind, Roger couldn’t believe he had ever thought of doing anything else. If what he needed to do was tell John all of the big and small things that he loved about him, he would do just that.

Roger flicked his cigarette butt onto the stove without a second thought and all but ran to grab a notebook from the bedroom, and as soon as he sat down at the desk on the wall of his living room, words flew from his mind to his pen to the paper.

_Deaky, I love you. I’m pretty shit as explaining my feelings while we’re actually talking, so I figured I’d write them all down. Well, not all of them, as the letter would go on for infinite pages because there is no limit or stopping point to how much I adore you._

_First, is that I love you. I’ve said it before, already in this letter, actually, but I need you to know that. I love you. With a period at the end and no if, and, but, or too. I love you._

Roger wrote down everything that came to mind. He wrote down specific things he loved about John. He wrote down memories that reminded him why he loved him. He wrote down how he felt during their first kiss and how he was so afraid John wasn’t going to react well.

He wrote and wrote and kept writing until his right hand was sore and tense, and kept writing despite it. He wrote with all of his concentration, barely noticing the distinct smell of smoke coming from the kitchen.

_The alley we were in was dirty as all hell, but I didn’t care about anything but you. Really, we could’ve done a thousand other things to stay hidden from those girls, but I kissed you instead. I know you probably feel like our first kiss came out of obligation, or that it was our only option, but it wasn’t. I just wanted to feel your lips on mine so bad I didn’t want to think of any other solution._

Roger kept his concentration even as he set down his pen to think of other things he needed to say. He bit his thumb and thought about John. He thought about his eyes, his hair, his lips, his waist, his hands. He thought about the way John smelled, sweet and a bit sweaty all on his own, with an undertone of the cologne he wore and the cigarettes he smoked.

Roger’s apartment now had a distinct haze in the air, but Roger couldn’t be bothered to look up for even a moment.

_You’re so gorgeous, Deaks. Everything about you turns me on, which is absolutely insane because I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to anything about a man before you three. I can’t even watch you during concerts because if I spend more than a second watching your long fingers and hands playing the way you do, I’d be hard the entire concert._

_It’s even worse when you look back at me, and you just smile. I can’t concentrate on anything else. God, my fucking hands are sweaty right now even thinking about it. You smile at me and it’s like the fucking world stops because it’s just you and me and your beautiful fucking smile._

_After the shows, when we’re finally backstage, and we’re all pressed together in some sort of group hug, it’s you who always want to be next to. I love Freddie and Bri, but no one smells as good as you do. Even nasty and sweating you somehow make me want to bury my face in your neck._

_It’s electric._

Every word in every sentence Roger wrote was true and without exaggeration, and every time he thought he might be nearing the end, more lovely things about his boyfriend came to the forefront of his mind.

Roger’s hand cramped, but he powered through it, didn’t think about it.

_I love that you’re the only one of us brave enough to just say nothing. The three of us feel the need to fill up the empty space with meaningless words around interviewers and fans and journalists, but you’re fine with not answering at all. If you don’t have anything to say to them, you don’t say anything. You’ve got such a way with words that people are still comfortable during those times._

_But when you do have something to say, once you’ve finally opened up, Deaky, nothing can top it. You’re so funny in a way that nobody else is. I love the sound of your voice and every word you say makes me fall more in love with you. If that’s even possible._

_Deaky, I love you so goddamn much that, even though I’ve written front and back of this entire page, I feel as though I’ve barely scraped the surface, and maybe that’s because I haven’t. Because I never will. I love you for infinitely many reasons, and by the time I write a hundred of them down, a thousand new reasons will make themselves known. I’ll never be able to write down everything I love about you, but, and I know that this whole thing is only a bit over two months old, I know that I’d rather just continue to tell you for the rest of our lives. For the rest of all of our lives I only want you three, because without you all, I know I won’t be able to be me._

_You are the greatest piece of my heart._

It was only after dropping his pen, folding the note into his pocket, and stretching his hand out a bit, that Roger finally realized his surroundings. The smoke coming from the kitchen had turned into a darker cloud wafting throughout the house.

“Oh fuck!” Roger jumped from his desk and ran into the kitchen, looking for the source of the smoke. It wasn’t hard to find. He’d left the gas on for the burner under the charred bacon, and the grease had overheated, then caught fire.

“Oh shit, what the fuck do I do?” The fire wasn’t blazing by any means, but it covered the entire pan he’d used for the bacon, and was producing massive amounts of smoke. Just being in the kitchen made Roger’s eyes water, but he needed to put the fire out.

“What the fuck puts a fire out?” Roger was rushing to the sink before he could even think about the fact that it was a grease fire, and that putting water on a grease fire would only make it worse.

Roger did, of course, realize that when the flame billowed twice as tall and spit angry bits of grease in all directions, even hitting him in a few places.

“Fuck! Shit! Fucking cunt! Oh, fuck that hurts.” He didn’t know what to do, the fire was bigger now, and Roger was royally fucked.

“Rog? What’s going on? Freddie said you needed me here. Are you alright?” Roger just about cried as he heard John’s voice, in equal parts shame and relief. Hopefully he would know what to do, but there was no way to have a good night after putting out a kitchen fire.

“In the kitchen!” John seemed to have been on his way there anyway, probably having smelled the smoke, because he appeared before Roger even finished the sentence. Roger tried to keep his eyes on the fire, making sure that it didn’t spread farther out, but he couldn’t help but risk a glance at John as he walked in, and did not miss the look of confusion and fear that flashed on John’s face.

“Rog! Freddie called almost an hour ago, has the fire been going on this entire time? Why didn’t they just tell you how to put it out over the phone? Or just come here themselves?” John’s voice was panicky, as his eyes moved frantically between Roger and the fire.

“It’s a long story, Deaks! We just need to put this goddamn fire out right now! What do we do?”

John didn’t even answer, just moved toward Roger and pushed him lightly out of the kitchen. Then, he grabbed a pot cover from where he knew Roger kept them in one of the kitchen cupboards, and placed it over the fire as quickly as he could. He was careful not to let his clothes or body be caught by the fire, and moved as quickly as he could to put it out.

Once the fire was smothered and effectively disarmed, John walked out of the kitchen and turned on Roger, “What the fuck happened here?” He wasn’t angry, necessarily, just surprised and adrenaline high from putting out the fire.

Roger, who’d just been standing and watching John in awe, cowered in embarrassment, “I was trying to make dinner for you.” He mumbled, avoiding John’s eyes and speaking so low that John had to strain to even make out a part of what he said.

“You were trying to what? Roger you never cook,” He gestured back to the kitchen, “and for good reason, I reckon.”

“I was trying to make dinner for you!” There was a vulnerable intensity in Roger’s voice that made John take a step back.

“I get that, but why? Why were you making dinner for us? No offense, Rog, but we all know you can’t cook.”

A sob almost ripped its way out of Roger’s throat, he swallowed it and just looked at John, crestfallen.

“It wasn’t going to be for the other two. I was trying to make dinner for _you_ to show you how much you mean to me, but I screwed it all up. And then I’ve screwed it up even more by starting that fucking fire and I feel like everything I do to try to take a step forward in fixing things with us, it really ends up bringing us two steps back.”

“You what?” John couldn’t keep the bewilderment from his tone. Roger was cooking for him?

“I wanted to show you that I love you, so I was making that pasta that Fred makes that you like, and I had this whole dinner planned out. But I fucked it all up.” The blond hung his head in shame. All insecurities John had about the two of them together blew away for a moment. John looked at Roger’s sadness and disappointment in himself and couldn’t help but take a couple steps forward and wrap Roger in his arms.

_Roger had cooked for him. Yes, he’d completely fucked it up, but Roger had made an effort. Roger had gotten the other two out of the house and attempted to make a food that he liked. Roger had gone completely out of his comfort zone. For him._

“I’m sorry.” John wanted to tell Roger he didn’t need to apologize, that he himself was the one that should be saying sorry, but no words came to his lips. John was in complete shock. Roger had done so much: had planned, and waited, and tried his best, and the brunet could tell just how disappointed Roger was in himself because he hadn’t pulled it off. All of that, for him.

John held Roger close to him, and he finally got it.  

Roger loved him. He understood, finally, just how much, with each quieted hiccup Roger let out. He felt the warmth of Roger’s heart as it beat steady and strong against his own. Roger loved him: truly, madly, deeply.

John knew that Roger loved him beyond a shadow of a doubt as the older man took a small step back from the crushing hug and looked up at him. John could finally see that he held Roger’s heart in the palm of his hands, and he realized it by looking into the exposed, unguarded depth of those beautiful, blue eyes.

The relief of the weight of insecurity being lifted on his chest was quickly replaced with the doubly crushing weight of guilt that filled him as he looked into Roger’s sad eyes.

“I wrote something for you.” Roger’s voice held all of the insecurity that was formerly on John’s chest. Still, John was unable to speak, held back by the sheer number of things that were about to rush out. He wanted to tell Roger that he knew now. He knew how Roger felt. He wanted to tell him that he had been an idiot. He wanted to tell him that he didn’t need anything else from Roger, just the love he already knew he had. He wanted to say it all, and because of that, he couldn’t say anything.

Roger reached into his pocket and held out the paper he’d been writing on to John. His hand shook a bit, and he cursed himself for it.

Still silent, John picked the note from Roger’s hand, and tossed it to the ground. The paper fell quickly, but lightly onto the ground. Roger held his breath. John let out one he’d been holding for over a week.

_What had he done that for?_

“What did you do that for?” Roger wasn’t mad, just confused. He’d spent a lot of time on that letter, poured his heart out, bared his soul.

John looked intensely at Roger, trying to convey to him everything he was feeling just by staring at him. His mind raced with all of the things he wished he could get his mouth to speak out loud, and he focused on them. John held all of the love and affection and apologies and appreciation and tried to push it out toward Roger, tried to let Roger know without saying anything.

Roger kept his stare, unblinking: confused and sad.

John’s mouth opened and closed around words he needed to say, but couldn’t. After a moment, when John accepted that words had truly failed him, and he could see Roger’s hope dwindling and his insecurity rising, John did the only thing that came to mind.

John did what he’d missed so much over the last two weeks, what he’d gotten a taste of a few days before, but had soured just a few moments after.

He cradled Roger’s face in his hands, felt the warmth of his cheeks, and pressed their lips together.

It was unlike any of the hundreds of kisses they’d shared together before, completely different from any kiss they’d had with anyone else, either. It was unsure and timid on both sides, John uncertain if he could convey what he felt to Roger with only a kiss, Roger afraid that the light, almost chaste kiss was a possible goodbye.

After a hundred skipping heartbeats and no movement between lips, Roger parted his lips slightly, searching for more, searching for the motive behind the kiss. John’s lips felt so nice against his own, so natural and so perfect, Roger couldn’t imagine losing him, losing that feeling forever.

After weeks of agonizing, a week of planning, a massively failed attempt at dinner, and an unread letter, Roger finally knew, in that far from perfect moment, and that completely imperfect kiss, the perfect way to show John how much he loved him, how much he needed him.

He took control of the light kiss with ease, pressing himself into John tightly, melding their bodies together as close as he possibly could. John squeaked at the sudden change, but didn’t do anything to push back, just went right along with Roger’s movements.

Roger kissed John like he was a drowning man and the brunet held his last breath of air in his mouth. He slid his tongue between his boyfriend’s lips and claimed every inch of his mouth. His arms moved from his sides to cradle John’s face in the same way John was cradling his.

Slowly, John responded to the kiss with the same passion. He finally let himself go, and his lips moved against Roger’s in the pattern of all of the unspoken words that had previously refused to be spoken. He dropped his hands from Roger’s face and wrapped them tightly around the blond’s hips, pressing himself even closer to Roger, to the point that it had them both wondering where they ended, and the other man began.

John felt Roger’s hardness against him, and he knew. He decided, for himself, and for Roger, that it would be the night. That night, he and Roger would fuck for the first time.

With an end goal in mind, John pressed further, taking control of the kiss for a moment, he let his tongue slide into Roger’s mouth and swallowed the soft gasp Roger let out as he did so. They continued for a few hot and heavy moments, as John grew more impatient and excited with each passing second.

Roger took John’s renewed excitement in stride and matched it. He relished in John’s possessive hold around him. He smiled against his boyfriend’s mouth as the two of them took turns controlling the kiss. He lightly ground his hips against John’s and sighed in relief when he pressed back with the same force.

At the back of Roger’s mind, he wondered how far John would take it that night. The next breath John let out sounded suspiciously like, _all the way_.

“Rog. Let’s go your bed.” He mumbled the words against Roger’s mouth, muffled and barely audible even to himself, but Roger stiffened.

“Are you sure?” Roger took a step back to look at the younger man and was so glad he did. John was a sight. He always was. Something was different now, though. The way he saw Freddie and Brian after their first time together, intimately and with everything bared, Roger now saw John.

John nodded, “Yes.”

“Alright then.” It was a strange feeling, as Roger walked John to his bedroom, they held hands, but Roger longed to let go. He could feel his palms sweating and didn’t want John to be able to tell just how nervous he was.

John was equally as nervous. Roger had now done this with both of their other boyfriends, but it was still John’s first time with a man. He tried his best not to get insecure, but faltered a bit.

Roger looked at John again as they crossed the threshold into the bedroom.

“Do you really want to do this, Deaky?” He hoped he didn’t sound like he was trying to convince his boyfriend not to do it, but after what happened a few days before, Roger had to make sure John was one hundred percent ready.

John let go of Roger’s hand and wiped off the moisture that accumulated between them onto his pants, “I’m ready, Rog. I’ve been ready.” Without another word, John reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. He hoped Roger would get the hint and do the same, and his boyfriend did not disappoint.

They undressed silently, not touching, and barely watching each other. Roger couldn’t help but compare it to the other two: Freddie, who peeled off his own concert-soiled clothes and Roger’s bathrobe quickly, and Brian, when they hadn’t even bothered to get fully undressed in the club bathroom. John and Roger would take their time. Take it slow.

In one of the few glances John took over to Roger, he saw the blond biting his lip as he undid the button of his trousers. He understood then, more than he ever had, why women lined up for miles for Roger. His hair shaded his face nicely, and in Roger’s bedroom, lit by only a single bulb, John had never seen such an incredible creature. He looked away to stop himself from pouncing Roger right then.

In one of the few glances Roger took over to John, he watched the brunet carefully flick open the top button of his jeans. He understood then, what the women John was with meant when they talked at lengths about his talented fingers. Roger wanted to, needed to feel them on him, in him. He looked away to stop himself from pouncing John right then.

When they’d both undressed, they turned and looked at each other. Still not touching, not speaking, barely breathing. There was a cool breeze in the room, and they both shivered, made acutely aware of how naked they were, how bared and hot with anticipation.

“Come here.” Roger held out a hand to John and walked nearer to the bed. John followed. Roger backed up until the backs of his knees were pressed against the foot of the bed. John took Roger’s outstretched hand in his own.

A dam broke within them both as their skin touched. Again, they kissed furiously, passionately, all-consuming. Bare skin pressed against bare skin, chest against chest, thigh against thigh, cock against cock. Every nerve ending Roger had was on fire and John was the ice to soothe him.

John pushed Roger lightly back onto the bed. Roger let himself fall. John crawled over Roger hungrily, recaptured his lips with need. The older man groaned under him and wasted no time sliding a hand between their bodies onto John’s dick. Roger held it in his hand and jerked John off slowly at first, to get him to full hardness, then faster and harder, just to hear John’s moans.

John started to shake with pleasure. They’d done something similar to this before, all taking turns getting each other off to become familiar with each other’s bodies, but it was entirely different with the promise of something besides a good cuddle as the end goal. He wanted so desperately to keep going, could kiss Roger for hours and days and weeks at a time, but that was not one of those times. Right then, John needed more.

He detached himself from Roger, equally turned on and disgusted by the thin line of spit that connected them for a moment, and whispered to him, “Condom and lube?”

“Bedside table.” Roger whispered back, still in awe that, despite all of his failed steps, they’d still ended up there. In his bed. John asking Roger for lube and a condom.

John grabbed the lube and condom and turned back to Roger, who, in the few seconds it’d taken him to do that, had started to stroke his own cock. He moved his hand along his deliciously pink shaft quickly, John’s mouth watered. He wanted that in him soon. He needed it in him now.

“Here.” He waited for Roger to reopen his eyes and held out the bottle of lube to him. The blond raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you want to watch me?” Roger seemed excited at the idea, but it was John’s turn to be confused.

“Not sure how much of it I’ll be able to watch, but I can try to watch what I can.”

 _Oh,_ Roger thought, _he wants me to fuck him._

“You want me to fuck you?” Roger sat up a bit and turned his body fully toward his boyfriend.

“Well… Yes. Do you not want to?” John bit his lip.

Roger shook his head quickly and swiped the bottle of lube from John’s hand, “No. I definitely want to, it’s just, with Freddie and Brian, it seemed like sort of a given that they’d be the one…” Roger pushed John against the pillows as he spoke and crawled between his legs, “They’d be the one doing the, you know, giving, and I’d be on the…. Receiving end.” Roger gently knocked John’s legs a bit farther apart, then began to coat his fingers in lube.

“Oh.” John tried not to flush at the complete and total vulnerability he felt in that moment. “Do you want me to…” He cut himself off as Roger shook his head while grinning brightly.

“Do you know what me fucking you means?” He circled John’s rim with the pad of his pointer finger, causing the younger man to shiver. “It means… That you’ll be my first time. And I’ll be yours.” He pressed his first finger in lightly, mirroring what Brian and Freddie had done to him. How gentle they’d been, how incredible they both felt. He wanted to make Deaky feel the same way they’d made him feel.

One finger quickly worked into two, and John’s embarrassed flush turned into one of arousal. He arched his back on the bed and moaned for more. As Roger looked down at him, he wondered if he’d looked that amazing to Brian and Freddie. He wondered if they’d had to take second to breathe because just the sight of Roger fucking himself onto their fingers was enough to get them off. He wondered if they’d watched his face intently, searching for the moment they hit his prostate. He’d have to ask them.

Two fingers went to three fingers. Small pants and moans turned into gasps and low long whines. Pink flush turned into blazing red. Need turned into action.

“Fuck me.” Roger had barely been working three fingers into John for thirty seconds before he said that, but Roger knew the younger man wasn’t asking, but telling. He also knew what it was like right then. He remembered how, with Freddie, the singer had his three fingers in Roger until he begged over and over for Freddie to fuck him. His time with Brian, the guitarist had also made him beg, Roger had apologized and asked for forgiveness and pleaded for his cock. Roger wouldn’t be that way with John.

He carefully rolled the condom on and then lined himself up with John’s entrance, all the while, he felt the pair of blue-green eyes watching him intently. He looked back into them and stared just before pressing in.

“I love you, Deaks.” John couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, the feeling of Roger’s cock pushing past his entrance was too much for him to focus on anything else. In fact, John didn’t say anything coherent until they were done.

Being in someone like he was, drove Roger mad. He’d never felt anything like it. Incomparable to being fucked, tighter and hotter than any pussy he’d ever had, fucking John was the best thing he’d ever felt.

Still, Roger fucked into John with only one goal: _make it good for Deaky._ He rolled his hips in varying speeds, like Brian did, hard then soft then hard again. He buried his head in John’s neck and sucked hickeys into it everywhere he could reach, marking John as his. As theirs. Then, as he could feel himself start to falter, and he could hear John start to moan and yell out louder and closer together, he wrapped a hand around John’s cock and jerked him off, like he did with Freddie.

John yelled his climax after only a few strokes of Roger’s hand, and Roger fucked him through it, remembering how good the aftershocks of his orgasm were, right on the edge of overly sensitive. The feeling of John clenching down on Roger, unconscious in his own orgasm, made Roger come as well, a cry ripping out of him.

Roger collapsed onto John unceremoniously once he’d pulled out, not even bothering to pull the condom off his slowly softening cock. John, still nonverbal and happy, just sighed and wrapped his arms around the drummer.

Roger was getting sleepier with every second, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be awake, and he said to John the only sentence he could formulate, “I love you.”

The last words he heard, in John’s soft, high voice, were the same words repeated back to him.

Roger woke up a few hours later, cleaned up and in a fresh pair of briefs, in bed with Freddie and Brian, who were also sleeping. The blond sat up and watched them for a moment, curled up next to each other they looked so lovely. Not for the first time, though, something was missing. Someone.

Roger stood on timid feet and walked into the hallway. The light was on in the kitchen, so Roger was sure that’s where John was. The parallels of what happened the last time Roger went to go speak to John in the kitchen were not lost on the blond, but he walked in anyway.

He hadn’t realized it before, but the entire flat smelled burnt. Evidence of the fire he’d started clung to the air around him and got stronger with every step. He hadn’t thought about it since John put it out, but it was undeniable and inescapable as he approached the kitchen. The smell wasn’t the only thing that had Roger choked up, though.

Fear held Roger like a vice. He took the final step into the kitchen area and saw John, sitting down at the table, head down, and shoulders obviously shaking with silent tears.

“Deaky.” Roger was close to tears already. Of course, like earlier, he’d fucked it up and not even known how.

John’s head snapped back to him, and to Roger’s surprise, he had a smile on his face. Yes, there were tears streaming down his cheeks, but John looked undeniably happy.

_What was going on?_

“What’s going on?” He asked, and John just raised his hand, showing Roger what he was holding.

The note.

_Oh._

“Oh.” Roger didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent and still as John stood up from the table and walked over to him, letter in hand.

“Thank you. Really Rog. There are a million things I want to say about this, but all I can say is that I love it. I love you.” Roger let out a sigh of relief and couldn’t help himself from hugging John, holding him tightly.

“It’s all of the things I could never get my brain working well enough to say to your face.” Roger felt John snort into his shoulder, then pull back a bit.

“I’m serious, Rog. Thank you.”

The two made it back into bed a few minutes later, Roger and John climbing over Brian and Freddie respectively, carving out their two places in the middle. Before he fully settled next to John to sleep, Roger shook both Brian and Freddie awake.

“Thank you both for helping me plan tonight for Deaky, it turned out wonderfully.”

Freddie snorted sleepily into the dark, “You almost burned your own flat down, I don’t remember that being a part of the plan, darling.”

“Shut up, Fred. I think, despite his mishaps, Rog did quite well at the whole romantic gesture thing… Don’t you agree, Deaky?” Brian reached over John to squeeze Roger’s hand.

“Couldn’t have done it better, in my opinion.” He could tell that John was only half joking, and Roger smiled brightly into the darkness.

“I was serious, you two, thank you. I love you.”

“We love you too, Rog.”

“You better, twats.” He was met with three distinctly sleepy giggles.

That night, with his three loves with him, Roger slept better than he ever had in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too much poly!queen content this chapter, but I figured it didn't fit in the beginning since it was an angsty beginning... Anyway... Worth the wait? What should be included in the next (ot4) chapter? Just got some nice things to say lmao? Let me know in a comment or send me a message on tumblr!


	4. Poly!Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's fucked all three of them, now there's only one thing left to do, and one major roadblock to stop them from doing it. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new summary, are you feeling it or should I change it back?

Roger woke up the next morning and felt the same complete and total happiness he’d had the night before, with the friendly addition of his straining hard morning wood. John snored next to him softly, and even sleeping and drooling just a bit, he was still the sexiest thing Roger had ever seen. He tied of course, with Brian, who’s long arms and legs tangled with Roger’s and Freddie, who nosed into John’s neck, and breathed him in with deep, sleepy inhales.

With Brian plastered tightly to his back, Roger could tell he wasn’t the only one that currently dealt with the unconscious hardness he’d woken up to. Brian’s large cock was fat and hard against the dip right above Roger’s ass, and he couldn’t help but rock back against it just a bit.

Now that he’d had them all, even less than a day ago in John’s case, in the very bed they were all in, Roger couldn’t help but push for the final step. Lightly, so as not to jerk him quickly out of sleep, rather coax him out of it, Roger propped himself up on one arm, and let the other trail down John’s body until it reached his cock.

To Roger’s surprise, or perhaps his delight, John was already half hard underneath his briefs. He let his palm glide softly up and down the outline of John’s dick until it was fully hard. Still working his hand against John, Roger began to rock even harder back onto Brian’s hardness. He longed to reach over to Freddie too, but finding it impossible, Roger focused on getting the two he had near him to wake up, knowing Freddie would follow quickly and join the action.

Brian’s breath hitched in his sleep, and Roger could tell he was close to waking up, so he ground harder, and let out the soft moans he’d been saving until someone could hear him. Roger was so hard between his legs and wanted, needed, one of them, all of them to wake up and take care of him. He needed his three loves, his three firsts, to get up and get ready for the final first.

He wanted Brian to wake up and, for him to, without warning, reach a hand around Roger and tilt his head back for a filthy ‘good morning’ kiss, one that would eventually turn into a filthy ‘good morning’ fuck between the four of them. He needed Brian to shove a hand down into Roger’s briefs and give him the same treatment Roger was giving to John, although a bit rougher because Roger needed neither a soft awakening, nor any help reaching full hardness.

Roger needed John to rock forward into his hand, and then back into Freddie to get more friction, because Freddie, much like Roger, woke up every morning, no exceptions, with a full chub. He wanted to watch as John would blink awake sleepily, and as his eyes would immediately dilate with his arousal. Roger absolutely needed to watch as John would choke off his moans and breaths in the beginning, but as they’d continue, grow loud and open and needy.

Roger pleaded silently for Freddie to wake up, for the two of them to make eye contact over John and for the older man to know immediately what he was up to, and for his eyes to sparkle in mischief and love that Roger was sure would mirror his own. He needed to watch as Freddie would slowly begin to rock against John, giving to him what Roger gave to Brian.

He needed it all. From all of them.

In his thoughts, and now unconscious movements of his hand and hips, Roger didn’t even realize Freddie watching him. Brown eyes looked at him with the same glazed over intensity while pretty pink lips tilted up in a soft, knowing smile. Roger blushed, but didn’t stop, only met Freddie’s gaze and palmed John’s cock a bit harder, squeezing it through the soft cotton.

John moaned out in his sleep and rocked quickly forward, into Roger’s hand, then back just as quickly, down into Freddie’s waiting cock. Roger smiled as Freddie’s eyes rolled back a bit into his head and his mouth opened in a shocked breath.

“Good morning.” Roger grinned a shit eating smile and Freddie shot one right back.

“Morning to you too, love. What are you up to?”

Roger’s smile got even larger, if possible, “I think you know full well what I’m up to.” He could have tried to play coy, could have stopped moving against Brian, taken his hand away from John, and played innocent, but Roger had no interest in playing the long game that morning. It had been weeks, weeks of trials, tribulations, and three of the best fucks of his life, and he was ready for the last thing they still hadn’t done.

Possibly the grand finale.

More likely the gorgeous opening number to the incredible epic their sex lives would become.

Freddie chuckled a bit, and then reached a hand to tuck a lock of John’s hair back behind his ear, keeping eye contact with Roger while he did it, “Maybe then, we should wake up these other two sleeping dolls and get down to it.” Without waiting for Roger to respond, Freddie ducked his head down and burrowed into John’s neck, pressing flurries of light kisses there.

Roger watched for a moment without doing anything, content to be a bystander in the picture perfect intimacy of Freddie and a slowly waking John. Freddie began to pepper in light nips of his teeth and quick mouthings at the soft skin below John’s ear along with his kisses, and slowly at first, then all at once, John woke up. For a slow moment, John’s eyes fluttered, his brow furrowed, and his breathing sped up a bit, but not enough to rouse him completely, then, Freddie sucked at one of the marks Roger had left on him the night before, deepening the light purple, and in a second John’s eyes were wide open.

At first, he looked a bit confused, not used to being woken up this stimulated and aroused, but the second his eyes stopped bouncing around the room and landed on Roger’s, they narrowed and focused in.

“Wha—” John’s voice was husky, low in his throat from sleep. “What’s going on?”

Roger opened his mouth to answer, but Freddie beat him to it, pulling back just the slightest bit from John’s neck, he whispered, “Rog woke up this morning and decided that, once having a piece of you, he couldn’t wait even a day to have us all. I woke up to our dirty boy grinding down on Brian’s cock as he was sleeping, and a hand shoved down his pants, the fucking menace.”

Sure, Freddie could probably only see the movement of Roger’s arm from behind John’s shoulder, but still, it made the blond laugh just a bit, “You’ve got one thing wrong. My hand isn’t shoved down my own pants…”

“It’s down mine.” Now that John was fully awake, he rocked even harder into Roger’s palm, and Roger could feel the growing wet spot where precum had soaked through the briefs. 

Freddie’s eyes widened, excited. “I thought you only gave it a little squeeze.”

Roger shook his head against the pillow, “Nope, ‘ve had my hand on this,” Roger squeezed John’s cock again in his palm, “all morning. Haven’t touched myself a bit, only the two of them.”

John’s eyes flitted over Roger’s body, down past where the blanket was covering him and zeroed in on where Roger’s cock was, “I’ll bet that means you’re hard as hell under there.”

This time, Roger nodded lightly, careful not to knock his head back into Brian’s face. He took a shaky, aroused breath, “Very hard.”

“Guess someone should do something about that.” The words had no sooner left John’s mouth and registered in Roger’s brain before he reached out his hand to work Roger’s cock the same way Roger worked his.

Roger sucked in a breath as he felt a hand slip beneath the waistband of his briefs and grasp his cock tightly, but he recognized instantly they weren’t John’s fingers. Too long, a bit thicker, definitely knobbier than John’s.

“Brian!” Roger gasped out and turned his head, straining to get a look at the man who he’d thought had been asleep up until that moment. He was met, not with a look at Brian’s face, but a kiss, one just as filthy and spontaneous as he’d been wishing for earlier. Brian captured his mouth, led the kiss with his tongue, and Roger drank it up, morning breath and all.

They kissed for heavy seconds, and the world fell apart around them, Roger’s mind was aware on one level that Deaky and Freddie were next to them in bed, could feel the warmth of the other bodies, but as Brian kissed him, it was only Brian and him. Brian, who grasped his cock and jerked him off, Brian, who ground his own dick further into Roger’s ass, and Brian, who sucked Roger’s bottom lip into his mouth and bit it lightly as he finally let it go, leaving Roger’s mouth red and a bit swollen.

_Brian. Brian. Brian._

Roger, in the all consuming kiss, had forgotten about his hand on John’s dick behind him, but was reminded when John bucked up into his hand, wanting more, needing more. Roger broke away from Brian for a moment to get his bearings after that. Brian makes his head fog and the world go dark around them. Roger turned his head back to John, trying to ignore the way Brian took it in stride and began to nose at his neck and down his shoulders and upper back.

Roger moved his hand off John’s dick for a moment, and laughed when John immediately broke his kiss with Freddie, “Rog?” John was flush all down his body, the blanket that had been over them all had somehow gotten down and tangled around their calves. Roger brought the hand that had just been on John’s cock up to one of his nipples and pinched as he and John looked at each other.

“Oh.” John’s lips parted and his tongue darted out to wet them. His lips were a perfect pink that Roger was sure his own lips matched, swollen and sensitive as Roger’s own were as well. He needed to feel for himself, though.

“Kiss me.” Roger didn’t know he was going to say it until it was past his lips. He rolled the hard bud of John’s nipples between his fingers at the same time, and if Roger could’ve come just form the look on someone’s face, surely it would’ve been then. John’s eyes widened for just a moment, and Roger could only see a sliver of grey, the color eaten up by John’s arousal; his cheeks pinked impossibly further, burnt a blotchy red; John’s jaw slacked just a bit lower and Roger could see the hot, red, and wet inside of his mouth. Roger knew already that this time, their first time, would be the best thing he’d ever experienced.

John leaned over and kissed Roger deeply, and while Brian consumed Roger in each kiss, John and Roger kissed with a delicious mix of passion, love, and an outpouring of filthy, unabashed _need_.

Brian and Freddie must have been watching the two of them, making eye contact and plans over the two youngest’s shoulders because a few minutes into the kiss and Roger’s constant toying with John’s nipples, Roger felt Brian’s fingers slide out of his underwear, and hook into the waistband. He felt as Freddie did the same to John. Then, in a coordinated effort, both Roger’s and John’s briefs were yanked down.

The two youngest men broke apart to look down at their other boyfriends, who were sliding down their backs to pull their underwear the rest of the way down and off. Roger let go of John’s nipple and flopped onto his back, then pushed up to lean against the headboard, John did the same.

“What’s this about?” Roger watched Freddie and Brian between his and John’s legs, let his own be spread a bit by Brian.

“I think you know what this is about.” Freddie replied, using the same comeback Roger had used earlier, and winked.

To his side, Roger heard John gasp lightly, so he reached his hand over and laced his fingers with John’s, then smiled at him.

“Are you ready?” He asked, thinking back to just twenty-four hours ago, how distant John had been, how far away doing this had felt.

But John just nodded and squeezed his fingers where they were holding Roger’s in that sweet, reassuring way he did. “I’m ready. Are you ready?”

Roger nodded, then realized that they were doing exactly what Brian and Freddie had talked about when they’d had that conversation earlier that week. Roger and John were having their own conversation, completely cutting off Brian and Freddie at the foot of the bed.

He turned to the two of them and smiled apologetically, then let his lips curl into a soft smirk, “Are you two ready?”

“More than you know, love.” Freddie grinned, then licked his lips. Brian nodded in agreement.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life, I reckon.”

“So this is happening?” Roger’s head spun at the speed at which everything had changed. Just yesterday, sex with all of them hadn’t been on the table, but now, it was a sure thing, happening right then.

Right then, it was, until the shrill ring of Roger’s phone rang through the house. Roger groaned and moved to get off the bed, but Brian pushed him back down.

“It can wait. If they really need you, they’ll call again later.” The ringing continued, and really, it had already killed a bit of the mood for Roger, but he agreed. It was probably his mum, and in that case, she could call back later. Or it was Miami, and in that case, he could fuck off. Or their manager, and in that case, he could definitely fuck off.

“You’re right.” Roger scooted back to the headboard when the ringing stopped, and tried to get himself back into the right headspace. His erection had flagged a bit, but it wouldn’t take much to get it back up. He just thought about what was going to happen.

They were going to fuck.

Brian would fuck him, Freddie would fuck John, they’d all be together, in the same room, at the same time, the people Roger loved and spent most of his time with would be together, finally.

The phone rang again.

“Fuck off!” Freddie yelled, as if the phone would take directions and stop ringing. Roger huffed angrily and made another move to get off the bed, this time, John used their linked hands to pull him back.

“Wait just this time. If they call again, it’s probably an emergency, if not, then they were just persistent.” Roger tried to protest, and still get off the bed, but John pulled him in by the back of his neck and kissed him again. It worked to distract him, and Roger let John’s tongue glide in, around, and out of his mouth. Until the shrill sound rang out once more.

“Fuck it, they’re not going to take no for an answer.” Roger pulled away, harsher this time, not wanting to get stopped any of the boys again.

“This better be fucking good.” Roger’s cock swung heavy between his legs as he walked out to the entryway of his flat where the phone was.

Roger picked up the phone on the fourth ring and growled into the phone, “What?”

“Rog, I’ve tried calling the other three, but no one is picking up their goddamn phones, you’d figure at least one of them would be home.” Roger rolled his eyes at the sound of Norman, their manager’s, voice. Figures, it would be that asshole calling to ruin Roger’s morning. Especially when he was on the line acting as if he didn’t know the four of them would be together. It wasn’t as if they were hiding their relationship from their team. In fact, all of the roadies and most of their crew knew about it, so Norman should have known. In Roger’s mind, it just went to show how little the prick actually cared about and paid attention to them.

“Freddie, Deaky, and Brian are all here at my place. What do you want?” Roger was blunt and didn’t make any effort to hide his growing annoyance.

“That’s great, they’ll only have to send one car, then.”

“What do you mean ‘they’ll only have to send one car’ who is sending a car? And for what?” If Norman were standing in front of him right then, Roger was sure he would’ve throttled him. By now, his dick was barely hard at all, and Roger knew that even after Norman hung up, he would no longer be in the mood.

“A spot opened up on a radio show, later. You lot will go on and talk about the album, and maybe about your girlfriends, and the new Rockstar lifestyle. I don’t know and I don’t care. It’ll be great promo. Just be ready for a car to pick you up in two hours.” Roger winced at ‘girlfriends’, but didn’t say anything until Norman had stopped speaking.

“We’re not doing a last minute fucking interview.” Roger’s fingers clenched around the phone, despite his urge to hurl it straight into the wall.

“Yes, you are. Be ready or I’ll have your fucking heads, end of discussion.” The line went dead before Roger could get another word in. He slammed the phone receiver back onto the base and stalked back into the bedroom.

John still sat back against the headboard of the bed, but Freddie and Brian had taken places at the edge of the bed, their legs dangled off the side as they waited for Roger to get back. They all looked at him with concerned eyes as he stomped into the bedroom.

“It was fucking Norman.”

Roger hadn’t even uttered the last syllable of his name before Freddie was muttering under his breath, something along the lines of “fucking prick”.

“What did he want, Rog?” John asked, watching with concerned eyes as Roger walked along the side of the bed to reach the bedside table and pull out his cigarettes.

He lit one, tossed the pack and lighter to John on the bed, and rolled his eyes as he took his first drag, “Apparently, another band dropped out of a radio interview today, so we’re doing it. A car is coming in a couple hours.” Roger scowled and took another drag, eyes flicking between the other three.

Freddie was off the bed and up in a quick moment, “He can’t fucking do that. Especially with no notice, that, what a fucking cockhead. Did you tell him we won’t do it?”

Roger flicked ash aggressively into the tray, “Of course I fucking told him that.”

“And what did he say to that?” Brian pressed, folding his arms over his chest.

“He said we had to.” Roger replied bitterly.

“I fucking hate that man. A real piece of shit.”

“We all know, and agree, Fred.” Brian mirrored Roger’s scowl.

“So… I take it that _this,_ ” John gestured between the four of them, “isn’t happening today?”

Roger handed his cigarette off to Freddie, too annoyed and angry to do anything for more than 30 seconds. And he had a real feeling that if he had kept it, he would’ve flicked it to the ground, possibly causing the second fire in his flat in a day. “No, I don’t think so. Norman and his fucking antics are the ultimate mood killer.”

Once it was established nothing more would be happening between them that morning, the four men made work of getting ready for the day. John and Roger got the first shower, having not had one after having sex the night before, while Brian and Freddie made a quick breakfast in Roger’s kitchen. The two of them were extra careful while cooking, and tried not to add to the smoky smell that dominated the flat already. After showering, Roger finally got a good look at what he and John looked like while they dried off. They both were covered in love bites, from each other the night before, and made worse by the necking that morning.

“You’ll have to wear a turtleneck” Roger said thoughtfully, and rested his chin on John’s shoulder while the other man brushed his teeth.

John looked him in the eye in the mirror, raised an eyebrow, “You look just as bad as I do. What about you?”

Roger shrugged and smiled, “I’ll wear a scarf.”

They finished drying off and joined the other two for breakfast after a minute. Once Freddie and Brian took their shower, Freddie insisted on dressing them all. “Even for a radio interview,” He’d fixed them with a stern look, but a sweet smile, “You need to look your best. I, for one, can always tell when a person looks like shit during a radio show.”

By the time they were all dressed in Freddie approved outfits from Roger’s closet, they were late. The car driver had come up and rang Roger’s doorbell, rushing them in a gruff voice to come down. They’d had to run down the stairs, racing to get to an interview none of them wanted to go to. At the back of Roger’s mind, he knew he’d forgotten something, but it didn’t matter because he had already locked the door and they were late. Later, Roger would see that scarf and burn in embarrassment and anger.

Annoyed, but happily together nonetheless, the four of them made it downstairs and got into the car. Despite all his moaning and griping to Roger about being careful while they were out, it was John who reached for Roger’s hand on the way out. Despite Brian stressing the importance of being subtle and chaste in public, it was Brian who gave Roger’s ass a light pinch as he got into the car. Despite his pushing away Roger the night they went to the club, Freddie was the one who pulled Roger in tightly to him as they walked into the building for the interview. Despite Roger’s pushing for them to be public, out, together, later, Roger would regret letting them do any of that.

When they walked in, they were greeted by a woman who brought them to the studio, where they met the radio host, his cohosts, and the producers, all of whom did a double take when they saw Roger. It was only then that he’d remembered the forgotten scarf. Later, Roger would wish he’d said something, said anything, really, any bullshit excuse for the hickeys would’ve done.

The interview went smoothly enough, the host content to talk at length about the upcoming album and the lifestyle change of being new rock stars. Then, his eyes zeroed in on Roger, and he smiled in a way that Roger was sure was meant to be teasing, but looked threatening. Later, Roger thought of all the ways he could’ve distracted the host from asking his next question, everything he could’ve done to stop what happened.

“So,” The radio host swiveled side to side in his chair, “What do your girlfriends think of all of this?” Silence. For at least twenty seconds. Nothing but silence. The four of them looked between each other, none of them wanted to say anything, none of them knew _what_ to say. Later, Roger would shake his head and again wish he’d said something, _anything_.

“We’re actually all single at the moment,” Brian finally started, speaking slowly, carefully, glancing apologetically at his three boyfriends.

“Really?” The host drew the word out.

The other three all agreed, quietly putting their yeses and lies out into the radio waves.

“Roger, though,” The interviewer smirked, “you came into the studio today looking like somebody definitely ‘took care of you’ last night. If you don’t have a girlfriend, I guess it’s safe to assume that’s another positive thing that’s changed since you’ve become famous: girls throwing themselves at you all the time.” The radio host laughed, and Roger forced himself to chuckle a bit as well. At the same time, he looked over at John, who was as red as could be and fingered the collar of his turtleneck insecurely.

Nervous energy pulsed through them all. It was so distinctly different from the ride there, the generally happy, but underlying annoyed feeling had soured into a shared, pure anxiety.

None of them spoke until they were all in Freddie’s flat, and the door was locked with a definite click. The lock added a certain level of physical protection from the outside world, but what the four of them needed, even if they didn’t know it quite yet, was a level of psychological and social protection as well.

“Please, loves, tell me that wasn’t as bad as it felt, that bit near the end.” Freddie leant against the door, and looked between his boyfriends. John looked away and angrily crossed his arms. Brian bit his bottom lip. Roger pulled his cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit one, then held it out for Freddie.

“What the fuck was that comment about Rog, was there a point to it besides to fucking be an asshole?” John rarely got too upset, but he was practically shaking as he reached out and took the cigarette from Freddie and took a drag for himself to calm down a bit.

“I think he was trying to be funny.” Brian crinkled his nose a bit as John passed the cigarette to Roger, and made a mental note to convince his boyfriends to stop the ridiculous, gross habit as soon as possible. The other three looked at him, eyes narrowed. It had sounded a bit like he’d been defending the host, so he added quickly, “It was completely out of line still, though.” The looks softened. “Rog, are you alright?”

Roger nodded, but didn’t speak, just breathed out the smoke in a harsh blow. Really, Roger was alright. Of course he was uncomfortable, and the interview hadn’t gone well, or even the way they’d wanted it to, but he wasn’t really bothered by it all that much.

 

Roger knew though, that the feeling would pass and that he’d be able to see just how much each of his boyfriends loved and cared about him. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could even get them to _show_ him.

“Rog…” John walked in front of Brian and placed a hand on his cheek, obviously still concerned. Roger leaned into the touch, and looked at his boyfriend with his best, wide open, ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“I need you.” Roger said to them all. John’s hand cupped his face, but Roger looked at Freddie, and reached a hand out to Brian. He needed them all. He couldn’t have them in public, not the way he wanted to, but he could have them there. He _needed_ to have them there.

In an instant, Roger was crowded by his three boyfriends, all of them taking a spot around him, huddling him in a warm embrace.

“We’re here, Rog. We’re all here.” Brian spoke softly and pressed his lips to Roger’s forehead, and the drummer could feel Brian’s hair tickling the left side of his face.

 “Even though we’re all single?” The hands all over his body stopped, warm fingers on his back stilled, and Roger swore he felt them chill a few degrees. God, he’d never get them to fuck him if he kept messing things up like that.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to…”

The hair against his face shook back and forth, “Don’t be sorry. I just said what seemed right, I know it hurts every time. I’m sorry it’s like this Rog, but people can’t find out yet. It’s not the right time.”

It was Roger’s turn to shake his head. He knew that if the conversation continued his mood and goals would sour. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The three men around him took simultaneous steps back, “Are you sure?” asked Freddie.

Roger nodded, then smiled sweetly and looked between his boyfriends. “There’s something else I’d rather do.”

“And what is that?” Freddie caught his drift automatically, but matched Roger’s mischievous streak.

John and Brian caught on soon after, as Roger shucked his shirt off and started toward Freddie’s bedroom, “Follow me and I’ll show you.” He called behind him, though the three men were already following intently.

Roger wasted no time taking off his trousers as well, wanting to get things going as soon as possible, with the case of blue balls he’d been left with earlier, the blond was ready to fuck, and fuck hard. The way Brian, John, and Freddie followed suit and undressed quickly and messily, Roger knew they were all on the same page.

Freddie undressed the fastest, and Roger was on him the instant the older man was as naked as he was. They kissed the same way they did during their first time: all passion and tongue and a promise of forever and a bit more. Roger reached up and carded his fingers through Freddie’s hair, then yanked a bit, and Freddie opened his mouth. Roger pressed his tongue into Freddie and used the singer’s own move against him, he dominated the kiss and fucked Freddie’s mouth with his tongue.

Freddie tasted as he always did, like cigarettes, and pure sex, and Roger, like he always did, kissed him like it was the last time he’d ever taste it.

Roger could hear Brian and John beginning their own embrace in the background, but he focused on the matter, the man, at hand. Roger unhooked one of his hands from where they’d been slung around Freddie’s shoulders and brought it down to Freddie’s chest. His nails raked through Freddie’s chest hair and he groaned, Freddie had the most hair of the men, and Roger absolutely loved it.  His fingers grasped the particularly thick patch of hair in the middle and tugged a bit, arousal flooding his veins further as Freddie gasped again into his mouth.

“Fucking menace.” Freddie smiled against Roger’s mouth, and Roger pulled back a bit to smile at him as well.

Taking the imitation of their first time a step further, Roger moved his other hand away from Freddie’s neck and sunk to the ground, settling on his knees. Freddie’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and he blinked down at Roger with a glazed over look in his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Roger saw Brian and John stop what they were doing to watch him and Freddie.

 _Better put on a damn good show, then_. Roger thought to himself, then grasped Freddie’s cock in his right hand. He pumped it a few times, making sure Freddie was fully hard and ready for their redo of face fucking, then he looked up at the older man and smiled, tried to recreate the same, hopeful, but timid smile on his face. He grabbed Freddie’s hand and placed it on the back of his head.

“I want you to use me.” The same words as before, though this time Roger hoped Freddie got it a bit quicker, especially when he seemed to be in a sort of catatonic state.

“Fred, did you hear me? I want you to— Oh…” Freddie’s fingers tightened in Roger’s hair then pulled his head a bit back to look Freddie in the eye.

_He definitely got it this time._

Roger let his hands drop to his sides, carefully avoiding his own dick because he knew, if he touched it, it would be game over way too soon. He let his jaw go slack, open and waiting for Freddie’s cock.

Freddie kept his hand buried in Roger’s hair, and used his other to grab his cock and guide it to Roger’s lips, let it slip around Roger’s lips for a moment, though, got precum over Roger’s mouth, making it glossy and wet before finally pushing the tip of his dick past the lips into the waiting heat.

“Uh…” Freddie groaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of Roger’s mouth and the aroused and determined look on his face.

Roger felt Freddie fill his mouth with cock, slowly at first, then, when he was about two thirds of the way in, and Roger felt his eyes begin to water at how full he was, Freddie pulled out. He pulled his hips back until only the tip was still in Roger’s mouth, left it there for a moment, let Roger suckle on the head and moan at the taste of his precum, and pushed back in again, faster and a bit further than the previous time. He did it again, pulled out, listened to Roger’s sweet moans and whimpers around only the head, and then forced his cock back in.

Freddie kept up the pattern until he was truly fucking Roger’s face, in and out, he could almost fit his entire cock in Roger’s mouth before he hit his gag reflex. His hips flexed and fucked harder and faster with time, feeding off Roger’s mouth, and sweet noises, but also John and Brian’s hungry eyes, jerking each other off as they stood and watched Freddie and Roger. Freddie was close, too close to coming, so he slowed down, let Roger suck him down one last, slow time, and then fully pulled out.

Roger looked back up at Freddie, and smiled, lips puffy and red in that obviously just fucked sort of way. Freddie knew that he’d made the right decision as his cock pulsed, and he used his hand to stop himself from coming. He needed a moment to calm down, hopefully Brian and John were ready for their turns.

“Better than last time?” Roger asked from his knees, and Freddie’s own wobbled a bit.

“So much better, practically perfect, darling.” Roger shined at the praise, then turned to the other two men in the room, “Do you two want me to…?” Roger poked his tongue to the side of his cheek and pumped his fist closely to his face, a mime of a blowjob.

John chuckled a bit, then shook his head, “I don’t know about you, Bri, but I don’t think I could stand it.” He’d let go of Brian’s dick for a moment, and the three of them stood, watching Roger and each other. Roger, from his place kneeling, watched back.

“I think, maybe we should just… go on with it?” Brian suggested, and Roger licked his lips.

“What comes next then, Bri?” He asked, partly because he wanted Brian to tell him he was going to fuck him, partly because was genuinely a bit curious as to how the rest of this would go. This morning, it seemed as if Freddie would fuck John while Brian fucked him, but now the room felt different.

“I want you to fuck me.” John said at the same time Brian blurted out, “I want to fuck you.”

_Oh._

“Oh.”

Roger blinked a few times, trying to figure out how that could work, if it could work. Honestly, Roger wasn’t sure he’d have the stamina to go two rounds, three if Freddie also wanted to fuck him. Roger looked at Freddie then, and raised an eyebrow, if anyone had an idea on how it would work for them to do that, Freddie would know better than the rest of them.

“There are a few ways we can do this, love,” Freddie started, knowing he was the go-to for all things gay sex. And sex with multiple partners at once, now that he thought about it. “I think the easiest way, though, would be for you to go and lie on the bed.” Roger got up and did so, then waited for further instruction.

“Bri, go put a pillow underneath his hips, so that Rog’s perky little bum is raised a bit off the bed.” Roger raised his hips, and bit his lips, anticipation growing with every moment. Brian placed the pillow under him, and they both looked back at Freddie.

The oldest man nodded at them, then walked to his bureau and pulled out a couple condoms and a tube of lube. He tossed the lube and one of the condoms at Brian, and winked, “Now get him ready.”

John stood still, not having moved from where he originally was, and Roger was about to sit up, not about to let John be forgotten, when Freddie walked over to their youngest and kissed him on the shoulder. He murmured something that Roger couldn’t hear that made John blush, then walk over and lay down on the bed, on Roger’s left side.

“Hi.” Roger turned his head to John and smiled at him.

“Hi.” John smiled shyly back at Roger, then leaned over and pressed a sweet, short kiss to his mouth.

“What did Freddie say to you that got you all hot and bothered?” Roger asked, and braced himself for the initial stretch of Brian’s fingers.  His breath caught in his chest and his mouth hung open for a bit as Brian pressed a single digit into him.

John waited until Roger had adjusted and Brian started to move his finger in and out of the blond before he caught Roger’s eyes again and smirked at him.

“Freddie’s gonna get me ready to take your cock. I’m gonna ride you while Brian fucks you. And then, Freddie’s gonna fuck your mouth again. Rog, it’s gonna be so good, so fucking hot.”

Roger’s mouth went dry, and he looked between John’s legs to make eye contact with Freddie. “Is that… Are you going to… Really?” He couldn’t even make himself say it. God, it was such a delightfully hot plan Roger could barely believe it was real. Freddie grinned at him and chuckled, “We have to take care of our boy, don’t we?”

Roger nodded, then let his head fall back against the pillow, it was all too much. Especially as Brian added a second finger to the mix, and Roger clenched down on them to stop himself from coming.

Brian fingered Roger for a bit, working up to three inside the blond. All the while, Roger had his eyes clenched tightly. He figured he wouldn’t open them until they were done, too afraid to see how beautiful the three of them looked, especially all together, all at once. Even the thought of it made Roger’s cock jump and a fat glob of precum shoot from the tip.

John, of course, had to mess everything up. “Look at me.” His voice cut through the deep breathing and moans the four of them were letting out and pierced Roger straight through. He opened his eyes and turned his head.

John’s cheeks were pink, and Roger knew that if he reached over, they’d burn at his touch. His mouth was open in a soft ‘o’ shape. His eyes drooped, open only halfway, and his bottom lashes were a bit wet.

“So beautiful, Deaks.” He whispered, and although Roger knew Brian and Freddie were both watching them, maybe _because_ he could feel their intense, burning gazes, he twisted himself just a bit further and kissed John.

Together, John and Roger laid on their backs and kissed while their boyfriends watched. They held hands and laced their fingers together as the two older men fucked them with their own. It was good, perfect even. All Roger had wanted for months, and more. Before they’d even gotten to the best part, even.

Freddie must have aimed  a hard thrust of his fingers at John’s prostate because the youngest of the four jerked back from Roger and screamed. Roger’s eyes blinked open and he watched John’s back arch off of the bed, bowing in a way that looked almost painful.

He looked so good, though.

John heaved in deep breaths and tried to compose himself while Roger watched on, transfixed and turned on beyond words. Roger did manage to find two words though, and he turned to look at Brian as he said them.

“Fuck me.”

Brian smiled down at Roger, but continued to pump his fingers in his boyfriend as if he hadn’t heard a thing. Roger found four more words floating in the stars he saw behind his eyes when Brian’s fingers brushed against his prostate.

“Brian, I need you.”

Brian’s fingers retracted a bit, and Roger’s breath caught in anticipation, so when Brian thrust his fingers quickly all the way back to the knuckle, it felt like Roger had the wind knocked out of him. Tears came to his eyes, and the blond, in all of the pleasure, felt a few leak out in frustration as he said the one word he knew somewhere in the back of his head he knew Brian was waiting for.

“Please!”

Finally, Brian relented and fully pulled his fingers out of Roger, who sagged against the bed in pure relief. Again, Roger let his eyes fall shut.

With his eyes shut, Roger couldn’t see, so instead, he listened.

Roger listened to John’s even breaths. His soft pleas. The soft moans and groans coming from the man next to him. Roger listened, and could picture it all happening. John asked for another finger, and Roger could see, without opening his eyes, the way John’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as Freddie gave it to him. He heard the rustling of the sheets below them and saw John canting his hips, the same way Roger himself had been doing not a minute before, trying to get Freddie deeper. Roger saw nothing, but heard it all, and saw everything.

Roger soaked it all in as Freddie told John how good he was. A good boy. Opened so well for him. How John was going to be so good for Roger later. He heard the squelch of lube as Freddie added another finger, and could feel the way John gripped at the sheets in response. He heard the way Freddie’s breath stopped the same time John’s did, and knew Freddie was biting his lip. Roger’s eyes were pressed tightly shut, but he knew it all.

Brian, from his place in between Roger’s legs was quieter than the rest. Roger, so focused on the other two, barely heard the soft tear of the condom packet. He ignored the sound of the lube making its way from Freddie’s hands to Brian’s. He mistook the sound of Brian slicking up his cock for the sound of Freddie pressing his fingers into John. Roger saw nothing, so he didn’t know Brian was ready to fuck him until he felt long fingers grasp his hip and the blunt head of Brian’s cock against his slick hole.

“Oh fuck.” He moaned out, and opened his eyes again. Brian was above him, guiding his cock slowly into Roger’s hole. His hair was damp, and his curls went in all directions, somehow a more chaotic swirl than they usually were. Brian’s brow furrowed in concentration as he looked down, and Roger watched Brian as Brian watched his dick slowly bury itself in the heat of Roger’s ass. Roger saw everything, and he was so very glad he did.

Once Brian was fully seated, he finally looked up, watched as Roger willed himself to relax so that Brian could start moving within him. He turned his head a bit to watch John next, who’s head was thrown back in pleasure and sweat dripped down his forehead. He had one hand jerking himself off in time with Freddie’s finger fucking, and the other white-knuckling the sheets of the bed. After a few seconds, Brian finally looked at Freddie. Freddie was already looking at Brian as if he had been for a while, a lovely twinkle in his eye and a sweet smile on his lips that Brian couldn’t help but lean over and kiss.

Still buried deep inside of Roger, Brian reached his free hand to cup the back of Freddie’s neck and bring him in for a kiss. Their mouths met hurriedly, all tongue and teeth and absolute filth. Freddie sucked Brian’s bottom lip into his mouth, and Brian nipped Freddie’s tongue lightly after.

The two of them kissed the same way they made music together, madly, passionately, and just a step away from being too much for the other to handle.

They only snapped out of it because Roger whined, really whined, quite loudly that he’d like to get fucked, “immediately. No matter how hot the two of you are together.”

 A string of saliva connected Freddie and Brian as they pulled a part, and the four men in the room all watched it until it broke, just like the dam of all the restraint Brian had not to pound Roger into the mattress with abandon. Though, possibly, Roger liked it better without restraint.

Brian placed the hand that had just cupped Freddie’s face around Roger’s waist, now grasping it with two hands, and began to fuck into his boyfriend. They both gasped with the sheer force of it, of how deep Brian was in Roger, how often his thrusts angled straight into Roger’s prostate, almost painfully hard.

Brian fucked Roger and watched as the blond’s eyes rolled back into his head. Roger’s mouth was open, his hair was messy, he was sweaty all over, and still, Brian didn’t want to, couldn’t bear to, look at anything else in that moment.

Roger knew, fundamentally, that their other two boyfriends were in the room, but for a few moments, with Brian’s cock fucking him so good and so deeply Roger knew he’d be sore for at least the few days, it was only the two of them in the room. It always happened that way with the two of them.

Roger’s cock bobbed deliciously between them with each thrust of Brian’s hips, leaking precum as it went from a flushed pink to a nearly purple as Roger got closer and closer to his climax.

There was quite a bit of movement on the bed, and both Roger and Brian snapped out of the bubble they’d been in. John had moved from his position laying next to Roger, to kneeling by his side, and Freddie was standing at the foot of the bed, now to the left of Roger, watching it all.

“Bri, slow down.” Freddie said, and Brian slowed immediately, almost completely stopping, fully sheathed in Roger’s heat.

“No…” He was so close, so goddamn close that hot coals burnt through his entire lower half, and Roger could barely keep it together. He needed Brian to move, he needed the thrusts to continue and bring him to his peak.

“Rog, babe, it’s about to get so much better for you. You just need to let our little Deaky get in place. He’s all ready and open for you.” Roger looked over at Deaky, ashamed that he’d forgotten for a moment any plan they’d had outside of Brian and his cock fucking him. The youngest man looked so good, so hot and bothered, and yes, so ready for Roger.

“Deaks,” John looked up at Freddie from below hooded eyes, and licked his lips, “go and straddle Rog.” John did, crawled over and threw one leg over Roger’s torso, then sat lightly on his pelvis, a little farther up than directly over his cock. He looked at Roger, and smiled that sweet, shy, and loving smile at Roger, and Roger felt his heart melt in his chest.

“Fuck, you three look so fucking sexy like this. I should grab the polaroid and snap a few pictures of you, just to keep the memory for myself.” Freddie said it almost wistfully, like an outsider looking in. Roger opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t find the words he needed, his mind too clouded by arousal.

Freddie stood still, watched them for a moment more, and then shrugged, as if shaking himself out of it, “I’m going to put the condom on Rog, and then Deaky, you ride Roger like the dirty little cowboy we know you can be.”

“Yeehaw.” Roger murmured, playing along, but still a bit worried about Freddie. He couldn’t bring himself to think about anything though, as Freddie began to roll the condom down his length. Even with the latex between them, the heat of Freddie’s hand was enough to have him bucking a bit off of Brian’s dick and up into him.

Once he’d put the condom on, Freddie grabbed the lube and slicked up Roger’s cock generously. Yes, he’d already spent more than enough time opening John up, and he’d gotten fucked only the night before, but Freddie was also acutely aware that it was John’s second time ever with a man, and it was his first time in that position, so he needed more lube than normal.

As he jerked Roger off a bit, to spread the lube around Roger’s cock, Freddie watched Roger’s hips move, clearly torn between fucking into his hand and down onto Brian’s cock, and wished for a moment that Roger was fucking him that night.

 _Another time,_ Freddie thought, and hummed, then let go of Roger’s cock a bit reluctantly, “Go ahead, Deaks, he’s ready for you.”

John turned to look at Freddie, grey eyes open wide. “Could you… Help me a bit?” John asked, and Freddie was just about to ask _with what_ , when he looked down and saw John’s hand, grasping Roger’s cock at the base, but shaking.

_Oh._

“Oh.”

If possible, John’s cheeks burned brighter than they had before. Freddie nodded and smiled reassuringly, all three of his boys were so new to this all that it made him grin and his chest swell with a pride stained excitement.

Freddie removed John’s right hand from Roger’s cock, and replaced it with his own steadier one, “I’ll hold this,” he gave Roger’s cock a squeeze and relished in the moan the blond let out, “and this,” the oldest man grabbed John’s left hand and laced their fingers together, for no reason at all, other than wanting to be connected to him as well, “Now all you have to do, darling, is sit.”

The room was quiet as John lowered himself onto Roger’s cock, even all four of their heaving breaths stopped as they all watched John slowly spear himself on Roger. It took a minute, but once he felt the bones of Roger’s hips against his cheeks, meaning Roger was all the way in, John took a deep breath in.

Roger filling him in that moment was so different from how it felt the previous night. Possibly because of the position. More likely that it was his second time instead of the first, and he now knew what to expect. Almost surely because there were people watching. Positively because those people watching were the other two loves of his life.

“Okay John, you’re going to be the one setting the pace. Fuck yourself down onto Roger, whatever you do will make him feel great, so only worry about making yourself feel good love, especially because Brian is down there taking care of our little blondie as well. You got it, Deaks?” Freddie squeezed John’s hand and pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck, let his tongue flick out just to get a taste of John’s salty sweat when he felt the younger man nod. John’s head lolled back as he rose, and Freddie wasn’t sure if it was him sucking his neck, or the way Roger felt in him. Probably both.

Freddie’s cock stood at full attention, but he ignored it. He chose instead, to focus on watching his lovers. His pleasure could come last, if at all, if it meant they were all taken care of, all looked after.

Roger was the picture of pure beauty with his hair spread around the pillows and his mouth open in a perfect little ‘o’. John, even though Freddie couldn’t see much of him from where his head was buried in John’s neck, he could tell was so hot as he enjoyed fucking himself on Roger. Freddie could hear Brian’s stifled moans from the back, and could feel the power of his thrusts as they vibrated through the mattress and set the headboard back into the wall.

Freddie was so engrossed in watching the three of them, listening to them, and pleasuring John that he didn’t even hear the first time Roger called out to him. It was a soft purr that passed for a moan in Freddie’s head.

“Freddie,” Roger groaned, louder and more forcefully. Freddie detached himself from John’s neck and met Roger’s eyes. The blonde raised one eyebrow at him and grinned. He raised one of his hands from his side and did the same thing he’s done earlier to John and Brian: pumped a loosely made fist to the side of his face, and poked his tongue to his cheek.

Like he always did with Roger’s childish actions, Freddie understood what he meant right away, and who was he to refuse a direct invitation into the action?

Freddie moved to also straddle Roger, but hesitated for a moment, maybe that would all be too much for Roger. Fucking, getting fucked, and giving a blow job all at once.

“Rog, maybe this isn’t a great idea… I can wait.” It pained Freddie to say, because his dick rock hard and needed something, anything, so badly, but he didn’t want Roger to feel pressured to take on too much.

Roger shook his head, “Let me take care of you.” After the words, Roger let his mouth hang open, another clear invitation. One that Freddie wouldn’t say no to again.

The singer moved atop Roger, and wasted no time feeding his cock into Roger’s mouth. The angle wasn’t the best; the blond had to crane his neck, and even then, barely got half of Freddie’s fat cock in his mouth, but neither of them could’ve cared less.

Freddie seemed to be the missing piece. As soon as he was on the bed, and his cock was in Roger’s mouth, everything fell into place. John found his rhythm and rode Roger like it was the last time he’d ever get to do so, which set a delicious pace that Brian couldn’t help but follow and counter. As John rode up and off of Roger’s dick, Brian would fuck up as well, would bury himself to the hilt and watch between them as Roger’s hips snapped to do the same to John. Roger also grabbed what part of Freddie’s cock he couldn’t fit into his mouth, and jerked it off to the pace John set for him.

Brian and Freddie kissed like they made music, that wasn’t news, but the four of them fucked like they did as well. John and Roger kept the rhythm, fucking down onto their partner in a shared beat that Freddie and Brian had no choice but to follow. Brian though, made the beat into an art, rolled with the pace and inserted himself in the best and most obvious way possible. From the outside, Freddie looked like the leader, with his instructions, and directions, and experience, and he was, in a way, but he also could be described as just the final piece of the puzzle.

Three great men are just men without their fourth. Perfect gifts are just disappointing presents without a pretty bow to tie them all together. Music is just music, but with the perfect lyrics it can be a masterpiece. A band is just a band, a set of drums, a bass, a guitar, but with Freddie, they’re Queen. They fucked the way they made music, perfectly.

They fell apart as quickly as everything had fallen into place. Roger moaned, loud and primal around Freddie’s dick, and a single tear leaked from his eye as he thrusted once more into John before he came. Roger coming caused a chain reaction: he’d lost the rhythm and the rest followed suit.

Brian was next, Roger clenching around him in orgasm was too much to handle, and he barely got in a full thrust before he came, still buried in Roger’s fluttering hole.

John rode Roger hard and stripped his cock fast for the last few seconds before he came with a shout. All three men, right at that moment, were disappointed that they didn’t get to see John’s face as it happened, his moans were so pretty his face must’ve been too.

Freddie pulled back and out of Roger’s mouth when he knew he was going to come, didn’t want to spray down his throat and choke him. He tried to pull up and aim for Roger’s chest as he felt it bubbling in his core, but Roger gripped his dick a bit tighter and shook his head.

“On my face.” Just the words were enough to get Freddie off, and he didn’t question it for a moment. He let his come spray all over Roger’s face, aiming for his mouth, but some of it ending up on his cheeks, his eyelids, and even a bit in his hair.

After he took a moment to collect himself, Brian slowly pulled out of Roger. The blond whimpered at the loss, and Brian watched as his hole continued to wink and pulse around nothing but air for a few seconds.

John was next to detach himself, rising off of Roger’s softened dick and removing the condom. _The same way he must have done the night before_ , Roger thought somewhere in the back of his head.

Freddie took a moment to swipe the excess cum off Roger’s face, tried not to think about the way Roger had swallowed the little bit that made it into his mouth and _moaned_ at the taste. He waited until Roger opened his eyes again, then raised his fingers to his own mouth. The cum had cooled down a bit, and Freddie was all too aware he’d just licked his own jizz off his fingers, but the look on Roger’s face was worth it. The blond opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and then just smiled at Freddie in blissed out awe.

After that, Freddie too got off of Roger, letting the man lie there tiredly as John and Brian disposed of the condoms and Freddie grabbed a flannel to wipe them all down with from the bathroom.

By the time they’d all settled in to bed for the night, cleaned as best as they could be with the small, damp cloth Freddie passed around, and exhausted from the best fuck any of them every had, the four of them were all ready to sleep.

Freddie’s phone rang. 

The four of them tensed.

“I’m going to answer it. It could be Kash or my mum.” Freddie said slowly, then got up from the bed where he’d been spooning Roger, who shivered at the loss of warmth. He walked over to the landline he kept in the bedroom, and hesitated before picking it up. He brought the receiver to his ear and immediately regretted it.

The three of them could tell by the way Freddie’s shoulders went rigid that it was not Kash or his mum on the phone.

“Norman, I can’t talk right now.” A short pause. “I don’t fucking care what it’s about.” Another pause, and a huff. “Love, I rather doubt an emergency has come up this late at night. Now, I’m hanging up the goddamn phone and unplugging it until the morning, if it’s really a big deal, you can call back then.” A sharp sound as Freddie slammed the phone down.

True to what he’d said on the phone, Freddie immediately unplugged the phone from the wall and walked back over to the bed. Later, Roger would remember that call and wonder if one last night of ignorant bliss was worth the rude awakening they’d gotten the next morning.

“What was that about?” He asked as Freddie got back into bed and positioned himself against Roger’s back again. John made an interested sound in the back of his throat as well.

“Norman called about some sort of emergency, and wanted us all out to his office right now. I told him we’d deal with it tomorrow.” Freddie wrapped a protective arm around Roger and pulled him in close.

“Prick.” John muttered, and the other three laughed in agreement.

“I don’t care what it was about, really. All I want to think about the rest of the night is the three of you.” Brian said, and tightened his own protective arm around John.

“I love you all.” Roger said, the same goodnight he said every night.

“Love you forever, Rog.” John said, a step away from the usual “I love you, too”. Roger let his fingers that were stroking John’s hair drop a bit and cup the younger man’s cheek, grinning.

“Love you forever.” Brian agreed sleepily.

“Love you forever.” Freddie nuzzled into Roger’s neck and pressed a soft kiss to his pulse point.

As he drifted asleep, Roger thought about how he had three promises of forever with his boyfriends, and he knew that, given the chance, he’d beg whatever higher power was up there for even more time.

In the morning they woke slowly. They took their time. Took it slow. Got up and dressed and ate breakfast in their own time. Only then, did they plug the phone back in. Later, Roger had wished they’d never done that, wished they’d just stayed in their own little world for as long as they possibly could have.

The instant the phone was plugged back in, Freddie’s fingers had barely even left the cord, it started to ring.

The four of them looked between each other questioningly. There was no way Norman, or anyone could’ve known that that was going to be the exact moment the phone would come back on.

“Hello?” Freddie picked up the phone.

Roger had been the one to push. He’d been the one wanting to go public with their relationship the entire time. He’d been the reason for the fight at the club and most of the drama in their relationship thus far. But he would’ve dropped the subject, would never have argued, or pushed, or even fucking asked about it at all if he knew what Freddie’s face was going to look like when he got that call.

Roger didn’t hear what was said over the phone, didn’t even have a moment to guess what was said, because as soon as the shock and horror hit Freddie’s face on the call, he dropped the phone and his knees buckled.

“Freddie? What’s wrong? Who was that? What did they say?” Roger was on the floor next to him in an instant. John just stood, shocked and confused at what would make Freddie have such a visceral reaction. Brian yanked the phone cord up and brought the receiver to his ear.

Roger missed it the second time, too. Too busy trying to help Freddie, trying to get the information from him, and bring him out of the fugue state he’d gone into.

After a minute, Roger looked up to the other two to see why they weren’t also trying to help Freddie, and saw their matching shocked and scared faces.

“What the fuck is going on?” He demanded, hoping someone would answer.

“They know.” John said, so softly that Roger almost missed it.

“Who knows what?” Roger asked, confused.

“ _Everybody._ Everybody knows.” John repeated, and that, paired with the tears beginning to form at the rim of his eyes, clued Roger in on what was had happened.

Everybody knew.

Everybody.

“How?” Roger swallowed around his heart in his throat.

Brian shook his head, “The story has been building for quite some time now, apparently. The night of the club really set it off,” Roger’s blood ran cold. His jealousy. How close he’d been to Freddie until they could see the club. Brian and him fucking in the bathroom. It was his fault. Everything that happened at the club was his fault. People knew and it was his fault. The three of them were hurting and it was _his fault._

“But yesterday, the interview, and a few paparazzi pictures from us leaving your place beforehand, that was the final nail in the coffin, I s’pose. That’s what Norman called about last night, he knew the story would break this morning.” Brian spoke calmly, but Roger could practically hear the harsh pounding of his heart in his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” Roger didn’t know what to say, how to say what he would say, or if he should say anything at all.

“It’s not your fault, Rog.” John said, but his eyes looked far off and sad in that same way they did for that awful week of their relationship, estranged but physically present. Roger had a hard time believing him.

Instead of dwelling on if it was his fault that they were now out to the world or not, Roger hugged Freddie in close to him, tried to pull him in as if he could shield his boyfriend from the world with just his arms.

They didn’t speak for hours, just unplugged the phone again, hugged on the floor, and cried a bit at the loss of control over their own lives and the way their relationship had been brought to light.

“What happens now?” Brian asked, voice hoarse. It was midafternoon, but the four of them were emotionally drained enough for the week.

“I don’t really think we have many options right now, love.” Freddie’s words dripped with resentment. He tried so hard to keep his personal life private and still…

“We didn’t have a choice that the story broke, but we have a choice on how we handle it.” John countered.

“We could deny it,” Brian started, though he grimaced as though there was acid instead of words in his mouth, “That’s probably what the label wants us to do.”

That was met with silence. Silence that was deafening to Roger. Silence that said nothing Roger wanted to hear, and everything that he didn’t. Silence that whispered a solution into Roger’s ear. A solution that he hated, but the one that would clear the story up the fastest, make it all seem like a crazy, played up rumor.

“We could break up.” Six eyes snapped to Roger.

“Why would you say that?” Freddie sputtered.

Roger shrugged. “It would be the easiest solution for us, really. You all weren’t ready to be out yet, anyway. If we break up, spend some time apart, and act as if there was never any truth to that, then it’ll all go away. Everything will be fine.” Except that everything wouldn’t be fine. Nothing would be fine at all. Not for Roger, at least.

“I don’t mean to speak for Bri or Freddie, but fuck easy.” John grabbed both of Roger’s hands in his.

“We need a plan on how to stop the papers from making us out to be perverts, or twisting this into us just having constant orgies, and whatever else the media will do to try and rip us to shreds, _not_ on how to make the story go away.” John squeezed Roger’s hands in that beautifully reassuring way.

“Of course I’m unhappy that we didn’t get to come out on our own terms. Hell, I haven’t even told my family about this and now they know. But if you think, for even a second, that this changed how we feel about you, Rog. You’re wrong.” John smiled and met Roger’s eyes, “last night we promised you forever, and I’m pretty sure we all meant it.”

A single tear fell from Roger’s eye, and Freddie reached up to brush it from his cheek, “Deaky’s right. We’ll figure it out what to do, and breaking up isn’t even one of the fucking options. I love you all too much.” He looked between the John and Brian, then back to Roger.

“We’re in this together, Rog. All of it.”

Even sitting on the ground of Freddie’s flat, tired and afraid for the future, Roger had never felt more sure of anything in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. The End. But also not the end because I'm gonna continue with this series. Thank you for the kudos, the comments, and the support while I wrote this!!  
> Also, I'm currently writing two fics, so you should let me know which I should work on and post first  
> 1\. the direct sequel to this, dealing with the aftermath of coming out and the boys first outing as a poly relationship, prolly a shorter one shot... or...  
> 2\. a froger breakup fic, in which Freddie cheats and it's them making up and making love, definitely a chapter fic (shorter chapters, more frequent updates than this)  
> I'm going to eventually do both, but let me know in a comment or in an ask (zwow.tumblr.com) which you'd rather see first.

**Author's Note:**

> leaving a kudos/comment would be nice, also visit me on tumblr @ zwow.tumblr.com if you'd like!


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